The Twin Blades: Blades of Shadows
by TheFreelancerSeal
Summary: Book 1 of The Twin Blades Saga: As the scars of war begin to heal in Tellius, events are put in motion that will threaten the peace so many risked their lives for and unearth a discovery that might doom the entire continent. Post RD
1. Chapter I: The Woman on the Balcony

**A/N:** So, I've re-worked chapter 1 of the original story. As you can tell, the number of words got smaller. This is because I stopped doing different scenes if you will. If I can, from now on, each chapter will focus on one character's POV. For the most part in this book, it'll be Lucia, but there may be moments when I need to tell the story from someone else's POV. Be sure to check out my new story, _The Appendices_, to get the full picture. Enjoy, once again.

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><p><strong>Chapter I: The Woman on the Balcony<strong>

They had recently returned from the wars in Begnion, Queen Elincia, her fighting men and knights, and those who had accompanied her. Peace had come, at long last, to the warring countries of Tellius, and it seemed to follow the royal company on their long march to their homeland. Even now, thirteen days since their arrival and the departure of Ike and his mercenaries into the west, the gentle silence persisted, and the people of Crimea supposed that it might endure for all time.

The winter air was quiet all about the walls of the palace, though it did not yet have its chill even in the midst of the second month of the season and the first of the new year. Except for the crackling of hanging torches, not a sound was heard within the walls. The gardens and courtyards had grown still, for the crickets had gone away. Not even a gust of wind arose to blow the browned grass. It was a night as still as any could wish for.

Yet, it was not a night of peace, though Lucia had wished it were so.

The swordswoman of the realm stood alone in sober and grave contemplations on the balcony where her queen had once greeted her people. Unshod and in her nightly garments, she had crept from her quarters and come into the open places. Her eyes drew themselves upwards upon the full moon, and she had found this preferable to her thoughts drawing her into dark places or her legs leading her in restless walking against her will.

While some would find this rather strange, Lucia did not. She had, by now, grown quite accustomed to such things. For three nights now, she was drawn into the solitary places where none could see her, and she recalled how she had gone from tent or bed during the journey home many more nights before this one. She did not know why, but she found herself drawn to the open places in the darkness of the night. She felt more at ease without such things as walls to cage her, though she could not rid herself of the strange things that often followed her in the night.

At length, Lucia took her eyes away from the single silver eye overhead and leaned over the railing, resting her head upon her arms with a deep sigh. A frown spread across her face as she surveyed the garden below.

"I had hoped that my own bed and my own quarters would bring this to an end," she whispered with a voice heavy with sad dissatisfaction. "How many nights has this happened to me? How many nights have I gone without rest?"

She did not ask as one who expected a reply, for she had kept the count. Still, as if to give an answer, her mouth opened in a wearied yawn, and her eyes, in protest at having remained open longer than they wished, blinked rapidly, pleading for rest against the bright light of the moon, which lingered still upon them.

Lucia could think of no greater pleasure than to oblige her eyes in sleep, but she did not expect that she would do so. For a moment, she allowed them to close, and at that very instant, a host of shapes appeared before her in the darkness. They were shapes of men, men she had not wished to remember, but remember she did nonetheless.

They were those who had followed the traitor, Ludveck, in his rebellion this previous summer, though he was not among them. She saw them as they looked upon her, and a man at their head bore a most unfavorable look. Indeed, he seemed to regard her with a burning hate.

At once, her eyes opened to spare her from the sights and to send them away before they could speak words she had longed to forget. With another heavy sigh, Lucia straightened herself, fixing her eyes once more upon the moon and the starry sky above them.

"Can I endure this?" she wondered aloud. "I have never faced a thing such as this before. If only the faces were real, then my sword might do me some good in this case. Why is it so quiet?" she said, allowing her words and thoughts to venture to another place. "Why is it so mild?"

She had found herself numbed from the many nights spent in such grim reflection upon the same matter. Even the stone underfoot did not chill her, though she did not know why she would have wanted it to do so.

Though the night air was of a peaceful sort, Lucia wished now for some sound. For though it was still, she found no rest, and though silence hung in the air, her ears heard that which she did not wish to hear. Such a distraction, she thought, would please her.

Moments later, a sudden wind from the north blew across the garden, chilling the flesh of Lucia's arms. The lady gasped as she felt it, for her nightdress did not shield her from the gust. And yet, she found herself spreading her arms in a welcoming embrace, even as she quivered. When the wind had passed, she again looked over the garden. The soft earth and brown grass looked back at her, and they seemed to beckon her with gladdened invitations.

Lucia thought she might go out and greet them, for when she was a child, she had often enjoyed their company. She was certain that even a walk upon the grass, stiffened and prickled as it would be, would be better than the idle standing. She admitted only to herself that her thoughts would at least have a new path to walk upon, and the idea of a lengthened stroll sounded preferable than a night indistinguishable from all the others.

But when Lucia turned her gaze downwards upon her feet, bare and pale in the light of the moon, she dismissed such thoughts as foolish and most childish.

"It seems as though I've become the lady my mother had always hoped I would be," she mused to herself. "I would not dare to step outside the palace without proper clothes and shoes. If not for the fact that the whole castle is asleep, I would not even venture outside my quarters in such a state of dress. All the same, how I would like to be a girl again and not care about such things, even though my mother wished I did." The thought did amuse her, even in the slightest. "Those days were better than the days I live now," she added with a saddened sigh.

Her eyes, still marked from the moonlight, again called for rest, and as her thoughts turned anew to the nights before now, Lucia shook her head wearily, even as her mouth opened in another drowsy yawn. She had grown weary of the sleepless nights spent in her grim reflections, hoping to make sense of what followed her in sleep. She was equally wearied of the days that seemed without end as her spies brought her much news of late, and all of it amounted to mere rumor and idle talk of the Crimean Civil War as the people had grown to call the uprising of Felirae.

Most of all, Lucia was wearied of the many questions asked of her concerning her welfare. From the lowliest of servants to the highest of officers and even the queen herself, questions had come, asking if she were well. While Lucia counted herself as skillful in the art of deception, the milk-sister of the queen knew only her enemies numbered the limits of such a talent. Those whom she called friends saw every betrayal in her face, her eyes, and her very posture. She was certain of this, and it displeased her that they persisted in asking the same questions of her.

She had often asked those very things of herself, yet she knew she had not the need to do so.

In her body, deep within her mind, and deeper within her soul, Lucia was quite exhausted, and though she wished that a better lot were cast upon her, on this night, she wished for it all the more.

Upon the arrival of the royal entourage in Melior, Elincia had set her nobles and her armies loose upon her people to destroy the last of the usurpers who had once threatened her rule. Now, she had called them back to her side as her councilors, and they had arrived earlier just this day.

Lucia had not wished to see them, for they would surely have noticed her. She did not wish for the nobles to see her, and she wished for her brother, who had gone with his riders into the east on the charge of his queen, to see her least of all. Of all the people she knew, her own flesh and blood did not know of her troubles, and she wished it to remain so. She recalled how she had left the side of Elincia when the queen had waited to greet them under the guise of an ache in her head. It had seemed strange to her milk-sister, this Lucia knew, but the queen had dismissed her.

"I should not have lied to her," Lucia said sadly with a feeble shake of her head at the remembrance, "but what could I say to my queen? Could I tell her of what I see? I suppose it does not matter. I had hoped to avoid the nobles, but I will see them tomorrow nevertheless. If only I could sleep tonight, then I might avoid the questions they would surely ask of me. But would I sleep now when I have not for so long? I'd be a fool if I thought so."

The winds continued to fall upon the palace, and they seemed to grow colder by the moment. Lucia found herself shivering, and she frowned as she ran her palms across the bumpy flesh of her arms. She knew well what this wind would bring with it. The snows of winter would come at last to Crimea, and they would come soon. Though the winters of her homeland were not at all harsh, Lucia found herself thinking that on this year, it would be as the bitter storms of Daein as she stood still, listening to the blowing howls of the night.

"If I would be a fool, then a fool I will be," she said when she could no longer bear the chill upon her skin. "Perhaps, the warmth of my own bed will ease the night, now that I've stood here in the cold."

She turned and walked the lonely way back to her chambers, hoping that she might gain some moment of peace in sleep, though Lucia did not hold to any great hope for such a thing. When she had returned to her room, Lucia laid herself beneath her thick bedcovers, though she felt the chill of the winter air lingering upon her still.

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><p><em>Lucia stood alone upon a stool below the hangman's noose. Two men, clothed in silver armor, stood at each side, and one awaited only the order to pull the stool out from beneath their prisoner and let the rope do its terrible work. <em>

_The woman soon to die surveyed the crowd gathering around the gallows, looking upon them with her eyes and listening intently with her ears, for soon her eyes would darken and her ears would deafen forever. A great many among the people shouted names such as 'murderers' or 'traitors' at the rebel soldiers and shook their fists at the men, but a few shook their fists at Lucia, for they now revealed themselves as _s_upporters of Felirae. Lucia cared not. _

_Her eyes fell upon a single man standing before the scaffold with his back to her. He was the head of these men in the stead of their lord, and it was his order that would see her hanged. It was not long before he gave it. _

_As Lucia felt the rope bite into the flesh of her neck and tighten around her throat, she saw her executioner turn slowly around. Her lungs burned for air, and the world was growing dark. The man was, by now, facing her. The world was fading all too fast, but she could still see the face of he who would end her life. The face was hard, pitiless, and even excited to see her die, but it was not the face she expected to see._

Lucia let out a great cry as she awoke. Beads of cold sweat formed on her brow, and within her chest, a lingering fear pounded violently, as did her heart. Each breath she took was taken as a fitful gasp. With trembling hands, she felt her neck, grateful to find the biting coil had faded. Her hands found the locks of her hair. Though her hair was considerably longer before the rebellion, it was longer than it had been on that day, and these things brought strange comforts to the frightened lady.

When her breath had stilled and her heart had calmed, Lucia climbed out of bed, glad as the unclad floors of her chambers met her feet, for it seemed to chase away what remained of the dream, the same accursed dream from every night.

Lucia walked in a fitful pace, back and forth across the floor, muttering to herself. "This has never happened twice," she said quietly. "What is the cause of all this?" she would also add.

While she had relived that terrible scene night after night, the lady had often later drifted off to sleep when she could no longer abide the thought of another moment spent in idle activity. But now, it had come to her twice in one night, and this thought was most disturbing to Lucia, as she continued her restless walking. All the while, it seemed that her legs once again wished her to go, but she knew not where.

When she, at length, ceased her uneasy steps, Lucia again left her quarters. She had not bothered to dress, for she was certain that, by this late hour, the castle slept in undisturbed slumber, which she had long envied. She did not know where she might go. She only knew that she could not stay in her chambers.

Lucia walked slowly through the darkened halls and passages lit only by the soft light of the hanging torches, ever awake as their stations demanded. Despite their presence, the palace truly seemed darker to the lady than the balcony lit by the silvery moon. The fires at her sides appeared harsh to the fearful woman, for they carried the flames of a memory she had not the desire to recall. And so, she did not allow her gaze to fall upon them.

The lady went along her way without any thought or purpose, putting her trust in only the memory of the queen's house. As she idly walked, she had hoped to gather her wits and tame her thoughts, though they seemed to flee from her. It was quiet, she noted, except for the crackling of the torches and every breath she took. Aside from that, Lucia thought she could hear every beat of her heart and even the noiseless falls of her steps.

While she had often enjoyed the silent company of herself, on this night, Lucia did not find it at all pleasing, though she could not say why it was so. It was yet another matter for her to ponder as she continued up and down every hall and staircase when she found herself at one.

In her wanderings, she happened to find herself before her brother's chamber. Lucia paused as she stood before the door, and she dared to press an ear to the solid door. Behind the wood, she thought she could hear the rather loud sounds of Geoffrey in the midst of sleep. Lucia might have found it amusing that he should sleep so loudly when he conducted himself with such poise and dignity, as many a man of stature. Yet, she found herself oddly displeased.

"How can he find it easy to sleep?" she wondered with discontent in her voice. She stifled another yawn as she withdrew from his door. "How can he sleep so soundly when I cannot?" For many nights, even while he was away on his queen's behalf, she often wondered how the same nightmares that plagued her did not, to her knowledge, slip into the dreams of her younger sibling. Though she knew better, she could not help but think it unjust that Geoffrey should sleep this night, and she furrowed her brow.

Lucia did not linger at her brother's door for long, for she found herself wondering if such envious thoughts might prompt her to enter, and then she would reveal herself to the only one who did not know of her troubles. And so again, she walked the halls, though now, she wore an unpleasant scowl upon her face.

She soon came upon the royal quarters, entirely unaware of where she had come. When she stood before the grand twin doors that marked Elincia's room, Lucia supposed that it was only the familiarity she and her queen held that brought her to this place, for the lady had often come to her when the need arose and even when it did not.

Lucia stood still and gazed upon the doors, one lit well by the soft light of the torch and the other darkened for its light had gone out, and she wondered if the queen herself lingered awake. She tilted her head as she looked down at the base, hoping to see some sign of activity. Did the lamps still burn? She could not say, but she knew Elincia would often labor with concern into the night upon the many cases her subjects would bring before her throne.

The lady reached out and ran her hand across the wood, letting her palm rise and fall as the carved patterns did. She did not know why she did this, though as her hand went on its way, she smiled as if her hand might have rested upon her milk-sister's face, as it often did when Elincia was in need of comfort.

If the queen were still astir, Lucia wondered if she would be glad of her company should she enter. Would Elincia question her sudden arrival? She might indeed, for a nightly visit from her milk-sister at such a late hour was most unusual. As her hand slowed in its idle coursing, Lucia thought briefly of entering nevertheless and laying her troubles before the queen. She had thought of it before, and many a time, she had considered that it would do her and the queen a greater good, for she knew the queen did not think her at all well.

"Perhaps, I would be glad to speak with her," Lucia whispered, but as she spoke, she sighed and shook her head. "It would not be right," she added sadly as she came upon the same realizations that often accompanied such thoughts. "My burden is heavy, but I'm sure if Elincia were to carry it, she would find it lighter than her own. She carries the burden of an entire kingdom. What do I carry? It's nothing that concerns her; I know that much."

At once, Lucia withdrew her hand as she felt a small barb, likely from a rough place in the wood, prick the skin of her palm. She held her hand in the light, for it had ventured away from it in its wandering. It relieved Lucia to see that she did not bleed. The barb did not even pierce her hand, though it had pained her.

As when she stood before the room of her brother, she did not linger before the chambers of her queen for long after, for she did not wish Elincia to hear her if she were indeed asleep.

Though the pain subsided quickly, Lucia found herself in a most unfavorable disposition towards the queen and even her brother, as she found the earlier thoughts of envy returning, and the sharp pain and her weariness had only served to anger her. Through clenched teeth, Lucia breathed heavily, and her scratched hand tightened into a fist.

"How can they sleep as though nothing has happened," she asked of the silent halls. "How can Geoffrey sleep as if he was still a child? How can Elincia sleep so soundly? Why must I be the one to suffer through this? Is this fair? I should say not."

The lady shivered as she walked as her heated thoughts of envy and ire turned cold. Her pace slowed as she found her heart saddened by what she had said. Without speaking, Lucia chastised herself for such harsh words and wicked notions. She knew she should not think ill of her queen, for she had sworn an oath of fealty to Elincia. It was her duty, she knew, to watch over her queen. It was her duty, she knew, to allow the blows meant for the queen to fall upon her. It was her duty, she knew, to suffer for the sake of her queen.

Lucia knew well that she should not hold such selfish thoughts, and yet she found that they came to her with such ease of late. She supposed that it was so, for it was easy to be weak after many years of strength.

Lucia stopped for a moment, wondering what she might do.

"I cannot go back to my quarters," the lady said. "I would surely go mad if I were to only lie awake and hope for sleep. And I cannot go before the queen or my brother. He has only just arrived, and I cannot allow Elincia to see me in this state. But there must be some reason for these dreams. If I knew that, then perhaps it would ease me. But what reason could it be?"

A thought of a rather different nature came to the lady. Setting her eyes forward, Lucia started once more down the halls, though now her strides carried a sense of purpose. She knew now where she would go, and she hoped that this deed would not be done in vain.

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><p>Lucia pondered what she had intended to do as she continued to walk with a decided pace towards the chamber for which Melior was known best, the grand library of Crimea. Lucia knew not what she might find, for she much preferred the training hall and the sword to the archives and the book. She did, however, know well what she hoped to find, and such a hope prompted her to make haste, though her feet, unaccustomed to striding bare upon stone, did not find her pace preferable. Lucia did not think much of the striking of the hardened floor, for she resolved to see this affair through for her sake and the sake of her queen.<p>

The unsavory dream remained at the forefront of her thoughts. While she had seen that dreadful scene night after night, she had never seen it before her eyes more than the count of one. She recalled the many other nights when she had slipped away from the queen's camp to the physicians of Begnion.

Each night, they had given her some strong potion either to ease her body or thoughts, and none had done her any good. Lucia's face soured when she recalled the bitter elixirs of the empire and then, upon their return to Crimea, the sharp herbal brews of the country healers, some to be drunk and others to breathe. The lady had thought her nose might bleed when she inhaled deeply of some of those remedies.

She also recalled the words of one man in Begnion, one who had once been a grand magician in the service of the Imperial court and then had spent his declining years as a physician.

"_It may very well be a matter of the body, my dear lady,"_ he had said to her. _"But perhaps it is not. Perhaps it is a matter of warning. Perhaps this dream you have is a vision. Do not scoff at this, my lady, for I have seen such things, though I am not an interpreter of them. However, I do know of many mages who are. I would tell you to go to them."_

Lucia had scoffed at him nevertheless, for she did not hold to such a belief. Yet, now she wondered if she had thought in fault, and the lady was sure she would soon learn if she had. She did not care for the practice of magic, for she was not a magician. However, if she could find an answer from those who had studied the art, she would accept it with gladness.

When she had come to the doors of the library, Lucia slowly opened them. With every creak of the wood upon its hinge, the lady bit her lip, though she did not draw blood. She did not know why she feared the sound. She was certain that no one would come this way, and least of all at this late hour. Yet, Lucia began to think again on what she might do.

She might have gone to Count Bastian since he had arrived at the palace only earlier that day, but she would not indulge him nor encourage him in his attempts to woo her. And so, Lucia pulled upon the door, hoping that none would hear.

Even in the darkness, Lucia stood in awe at the vastness of the chamber. It was said very often that the royal library of Crimea could easily equal the archives of Begnion. This room held all manner of subjects for all manner of pupils. From the beginning of the history of the country when King Caradock broke away from his motherland and the farthest reaches of the royal family to the many works of the writer and the poet, the royal library held them all and much more.

Upon the numerous shelves, many works of magic and other such arts of learning waited like flowers to the bees for those who would take such pursuits upon themselves.

It was these very tomes that Lucia sought.

A hushed cry of surprise escaped her lips as Lucia stepped inside. At one of the tables before her, the soft glow of lit candles shined through the blackness, and in the light, she could see a number of books stacked upon each other. Someone was here; she was certain of it. Lucia wondered who might have come at such an hour aside from her.

She considered simply returning to her quarters and trying to endure what this night would surely send to her again, but the images still remained fresh upon her thoughts, as did the counsel she had received those days ago in the lands of the empire. The knowledge she sought now seemed to Lucia as one of the ripened, sweet berries she had reached for when she was but a child. It was near, so very near, if she would only reach out and take it. And so, she did not leave.

She took one of the candlesticks from the table, for there were several, and she began to roam the aisles of shelves. At first, Lucia did not know where she might find the tomes that could speak of dreams, and she feared also that she might encounter whatever young student had also come here. Yet, she knew the patterns in which the many shelves sat, and so she searched where she knew the books of magic waited.

She found a rather large tome that bore the title, _The Observances of Signs and Portents in Everyday Life_, and she found it promising. She took it and hurried back to the table. She returned moments later with second, and considerably smaller, book, _A Discourse of the Unseen_, and set it on the table. She then went and returned with a third, _The Timing of the Seasons_. Lucia did not know if any of these books might hold that which she sought, but she did not dwell on such a notion for long. Sitting down, Lucia opened the first of the books she had brought.

It was a book of many subjects, grouped by letters. Lucia found herself turning page after page hoping to find what she sought quickly, but she did find herself reading from time to time.

"I don't care what day I sneeze on. I also don't care if the day comes with dry grass or not," she muttered as she read. She turned the pages again, seeking council on dreams. For if her dreams were truly a foretelling of matters to come, she would wish to know it now so that she might take action upon them.

Aside from the great length of the tome and her own frustration, Lucia grew tired of reading. The words seemed to run together on the pages, and other times, her sight seemed to fade and then renew itself. It was a trick of her eyes, wearied as they were. The soft glow of the candles aided her not. In fact, they seemed to only worsen the tricks played upon her. Yet her eyes were not the only thing to cheat her, for her mind did the same.

Simple matters were at the forefront of her thoughts. Lucia pondered the dimness of the candles and the darkness of the vast chamber beyond, swallowing the light with ease. She even found herself thinking upon the pace of her breathing and the persistent chill of the floor underfoot.

Lucia frowned as she read on, hoping to put such distractions aside, if only for a moment.

When, at last, she found the pages turning to matters of dreams, Lucia smiled with gratitude, though she hardly knew why or towards what she should feel grateful. Perhaps it was, to the lady, the ending of a long journey and one that was hardly wanted. She paid little heed to anything around her, except for the written words. Had she, Lucia might have heard the sounds of footsteps coming from before her. She did, however, hear a rather youthful voice calling to her.

"My lady?" it asked. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

Lucia cried in surprise, and she raised her head swiftly to see who it was that had spoken to her. When she saw a young face and hazel eyes staring back at her, she greeted her visitor, "Lord Percival."

Indeed it was Percival, the new duke of Felirae, with a book tucked under his arm. Though he was counted as the son of Ludveck, the former duke, the lad bore little resemblance to his predecessor, for he was only a cousin of his. Percival was a youth of thin stature. His hair was a lighter color as well. It looked as though someone had mingled milk into the hair of his forerunner. His eyes were likewise lighter and a size bigger.

The duke and the lady regarded each other, for they had become friends during the brief time he had claimed his right. He had spent a good deal of time in Melior when the rebellion had come to its timely end and even before that when Ludveck had named the youth his heir. At his request, Lucia had even agreed to take him as her apprentice in the ways of the sword, and it had pleased her greatly.

Despite their familiarity, the two only stared upon the other with uncertainty. Neither he nor she knew what words they might have or if they should have words at all.

"Did I wake you?" Lucia asked, at length. She had not passed his chambers on her walks, and she was certain her steps were light and would not stir any. Yet, she did not know what she might say.

"I was awake already," Percival replied dully. "It's difficult for me to sleep here or even in my own bed. I thought I might read, but I see I'm not the only one. I have to say, Lucia," he added, now with a cheered voice, "I thought, at first, I would be sitting next to Count Bastian when I saw those tomes. I didn't think anyone but him would have an interest in such things. But, I'm glad to see you rather than him. Of all my peers, I would rather see you. I expected to be alone here tonight, but I would be glad of some company. I hope you don't mind if I sit with you."

Before he could sit, Lucia quickly slid her feet further under the table. She now wished she had shod herself and brought a wrap to cover her shoulders. The young lord had entered fully dressed, and Lucia felt exposed in the company of one of her peers, even in the presence of a friend. She also instinctively hid her sword arm and the mark, the lasting symbol of her captivity, she bore upon it.

"If I'm bothering you, I can leave," Percival added, noting what he believed was apprehension in her face.

Lucia only shook her head. "You are no bother," said she. "Please sit." Though she was fond of him, Lucia was displeased when he took the seat at her right hand and so near.

"If you don't mind my asking, Lucia," he answered when he had taken his chair, "why are you reading books such as these? I didn't think you held an interest in magic or anything like it. What would you want reading about it?"

"I thought I would find it dull, and then it would help me sleep," the lady replied. She did not speak again, and Percival gave no answer. Instead, the two turned their eyes to the pages before them. She was glad that he had only arrived this day, for he readily accepted the answer.

Though she desired the solitude now robbed of her, Lucia did not find it odd that the duke had come here, nor did she find it odd that he, too, could not sleep. She had heard of rumors that he slept with a knife tucked under his pillow and _Cybele_, his faithful rapier, at his side. Indeed, she could see its scabbard hanging from his waist at the moment. Percival had confided in only a few, Lucia being one of them, that he suspected many a plot against him. The other was the queen herself, who provided much support for the lad.

Lucia continued reading, hoping that her companion would not question her further. Yet, she could not help but cast her eyes upon him. He seemed only one thing more to divert her eyes and her mind from what she sought. She began to notice his face twisting into looks of displeasure and even illness. At once, she wondered what might prompt such a look.

"What are you reading about?" Lucia asked.

"Anatomy," Percival answered rather sickly. "I can't even understand how physicians can learn their own practice."

Lucia only nodded as he returned to his book, though he seemed loath to do so. In his efforts to repent for the treachery now upon his shoulders, Percival took up many an honorable calling, yet he was a master of none of them. He had neither the heart of a physician nor the strength of a laborer or a warrior. The only thing within his reach was to take up the life of the clergy, and he had not the desire or even the ability to do so. Yet, even these things could not redeem him in the eyes of the queen's court.

For a time, silence lingered between the two. Though Lucia made every effort to read, she found herself growing most uneasy. She became slowly aware that her companion was looking at her, and when she glanced upon him again, he was indeed doing just that. To look at him, any other would guess he was merely absorbed in his studies, but Lucia could see his gaze falling away from the pages and onto her.

She knew not why he watched her. Perhaps, he looked at her face for some purpose, though she knew not what it was. She noticed a slight smile appear on his face, a smile which he tried to hide with his hand. She doubted he had seen her mark. He would have no doubt given her a look of pity or remorse. Why did he smile when he looked at her? Was it that he looked at her with desire as his cousin had? She found it most unlikely, for she was certain that Percival was not that sort of man.

Yet, she could not abide his gaze.

Her unease grew by the moment. Though Lucia kept her eyes fixed on the pages of the tome, she could not read. While she would have gladly kept his company, she did not wish to do so now. At length, Lucia loudly slammed the book shut and sharply rose.

"I have to go," she declared, leaving the book upon the table. Percival looked up at her and similarly rose, looking quite unsettled.

"No," he said quickly. "I'm sorry, please forgive me. I didn't mean to stare."

Lucia was utterly shocked at his admission. "Why did you stare?" she asked, though it bore the sound of an accusation.

The duke stood in an equal shock at the question, for he had not known Lucia to speak to him in such a way. He gave no answer, and he appeared to search for one.

"Can I not admire my instructor?" he asked, his tone uncertain of the words he had spoken. "You are the only member of the court who treats me as an equal. When your peers reject you, but one accepts you, it's hard not to admire it."

"Was it admiration?"

"Whatever do you mean, Lucia? I did not even realize I was staring at you. Please forgive my offense. I do not wish you to leave me in anger."

"I am not angry with you, Percival. But I can't bear to have you staring at me. I must go. Please see to it that these books are returned to their place."

Without another word, Lucia departed, leaving the books where she had laid them, and her friend standing alone pondering what he might have done.

* * *

><p>Back down the halls, Lucia walked briskly, hoping to get away from the library. She was certain Percival was sitting at the table, holding himself at fault. While he was at fault for staring at her, the fault was hers for leaving so quickly. Before she left, she'd glanced up at him, and she was certain she saw Ludveck staring back at her in place of her friend. She had seen the former noble's face as clear as her reflection in water, and the sight frightened her. She knew of no other place to go, so Lucia decided she would return to her room, even though she knew there would be no comfort or rest for her there.<p>

Still, she needed sleep; that much she knew for certain. And so she walked, breathing deeply as she did, hoping it would still her heart.

She stopped in the middle of a hall. She didn't know why. Her eyes were drawn to a torch hanging on the wall. Her eyes grew heavier as she stared at the light, as they had when she read by candlelight. At once, Lucia's eyes widened in astonishment. She saw another face staring back at her in the flames. It was the face of a man she knew and a face she wished not to know or recall, yet one she had not shown fear to. Just then, the face began to change into one she both knew and loved, yet its expression did not. It looked on still with ill-intent.

Lucia tore herself away from the fiery phantom and fled. She ran as fast as she could even after she realized no one pursued. She ran and ran without thought or care. In her haste, her feet entwined with each other and she fell forward. Her hands and arms took the brunt of the fall as they instinctively sprang up. Lucia lay curled up in the hall as though she was a frightened child listening to a raging storm. Her arms stung from the fall, her feet felt sore from her flight, and her heart threatened to cast itself from her chest.

Not a single tear fell from Lucia's eye, for she had long held such a thing as a weakness. Yet, she continued to lay there sobbing, not from any sort of wound but from the persisting fear.

"Get a hold of yourself," she whispered. "You're acting as if you're altogether mad. This is nothing." She sounded as though she did not believe her own words, but she thought to force herself to do so. She continued to speak the same words over and over until she felt the fear subside, just as the pain of the fall did.

She rose from where she had fallen, wincing as she did as the pains returned and faded. Thinking that she might fare better in the attempt to sleep, Lucia did not linger for long where she stood.

Once again, she started back towards her quarters. Once again, she strode to her bed and crawled tiredly into it. Once again, she closed her eyes and hoped that the dreams would not come to her again.

* * *

><p>When the dream did come again, Lucia awoke once more in fear and great distress, but she was glad she had done so now before the images could reach their conclusion. She had dreamed of worse, far, worse things that had often followed. When the fear and all thoughts of the rebel men and the noose had faded, Lucia buried her face within the palms of her hands.<p>

"Why is this happening to me?" she whispered to her silent bedchamber. "Why now, of all times, when the rebellion has ended? Why do I relive it night after night? My brother does not, and Queen Elincia does not. Why do I relive it?"

Lucia rose from her bed, and she felt her way to the small table that rested in the center of her chambers. She knew that a small candlestick rested upon it, and she took it when her hand had reached it. She left her room only long enough to light the candles with one of the hanging torches. She then returned from where she had come and returned the candlestick to its previous resting was hardly a great light, but it was enough for the lady.

Lucia paced with unease back and forth across her room as she had done earlier, still pondering the same matters. She spoke to herself of them, for she had not spoken a word to any other.

"Why is this happening to me?" she asked. "I could endure the dreams, at least I believe I could. But why does it happen now, and why does sleep stamp the faces of those I know, trust, and even love over the faces of enemies?" She wondered if she would find her answers were she able to read the tome she had taken. She knew not if these things were merely the tricks of her mind or if, by chance, the old sage of the empire had spoken rightly. At the moment, she wondered if she would know for certain at all.

Lucia had also heard stories among the fighting men of their former-comrades who could no longer bear the memories of battle. She had heard that many had suffered as she did. Often would these soldiers dream of the days when cries of pain filled the air in a maddening chorus and the blood of both foe and friend flowed freely as wine upon the night of victory.

They would see faces. Faces of their friends as they fell, and faces of fear as the thought of death became real. And worst of all, she had heard that the dreamers could no longer keep such terrible things in the darkness of the night.

Yes, Lucia had heard much of the "soldier's sickness" as the men had come to call it. However, she did not think it likely of her, for she was still young even at twenty and two years of age. When she heard the soldiers speak of this affliction, she had known it spoken of the older ones or those who had seen far too much far too soon. For that matter, she had raised her blade and seen the deaths of many while she was yet seventeen, when Elincia, still but a princess, had returned to her homeland. Yet, Lucia would have preferred such an answer, for she had none.

The thought saddened the lady as she continued to walk the floor, hoping to make sense of these dreams. When the weariness of the night came upon her again, Lucia ceased her restless steps, and she stood still. Her shoulders fell as though she counted herself defeated, and with a sigh, she again buried her face within her hands.

"Why?" she asked again with the toil of her efforts and the sorrow of their fruitlessness in her voice. "Why?"

Walking slowly to the bed, Lucia sat down upon it, still pondering the burden she carried and one she would find herself glad to lay down. She began to think of any possibility, beyond the thoughts she had previously considered. The woman even wondered if she was altogether mad. Lucia found it strange that such an idea would bring any satisfaction to her, but it seemed to do just that. Yet as quickly as it came, it faded away, for Lucia doubted that she was entirely in a wrong mind. All the same, she wondered if it might have given her a suitable answer.

Her eyes felt heavy once more. A weary breath escaped her lips once again. She wished anew for sleep, but Lucia knew sleep would not come. She could ponder no longer, for her mind could not bear it just as her body could not bear the deprivations done upon it. She longed for sleep, a deep and dreamless sleep. Yet, for all the elixirs and sleeping potions she had tried, Lucia knew she would not find it.

A new thought came to her just then. She remembered that Geoffrey had not arrived in Melior alone. She had heard that he had returned with Makalov on foot and bound behind the steed of the general, and she was certain it was to have the rogue of a knight chastised for some foolish deed. Despite her best efforts, she had not managed to avoid either of them. After he had handed over Makalov to the queen, Geoffrey had sought her out and found her. She had not spoken to him when he called out to her, and she was certain that he suspected that all was not well with her.

She recalled later that a lesser misfortune had come upon her, for, by chance, Makalov had seen her as well. He had, likewise, noted that she was not herself, and he would not leave her until she spoke of it. She had only admitted that she could not sleep. The knight had come to her in secret later that day with a bottle in his hand. He spoke favorably of the drink, saying it often aided him when he could not sleep. After his insistence and a good deal of pitiful mewling, Lucia had accepted it, though she had made sure to hide it.

Lucia knelt down by her bed and reached her hand beneath it until she felt the cool touch of glass brush against her fingertips. Indeed the bottle had not left its place. Her tongue dared to venture beyond her lip as she carefully wrapped her fingers around the vessel and pulled it from its hiding place.

She sat back upon the bed. She sat and stared at the dark liquid within and the candlelight turned a shade of amber as well through the glass and the brew. She idly turned the bottle this way and that and watched the drink flow back and forth in turn. All the while, a rather different confusion arouse within her mind.

She would not approve of this thing. She considered this strong drink a vile companion for one who partook of its company. She had often said it could dull the best of men and make the worst of them all the more poor in thought. Just as often, she had pointed her finger at Makalov himself, and few would dispute her words. And yet, she did not entirely turn aside from a strong brew. When the battles had come to their end, she could recall the wounds inflicted upon her and the pain they brought with them. She had gladly accepted such a drink if only to relieve it until the healers could take charge of her. She had the need for a dulled mind then, and surely she needed it now, though she felt a great fear at the thought of this deed.

Lucia sighed again.

"I cannot continue like this," she whispered, hoping to still her unfavorable thoughts. "My brother, the other nobles, and Elincia herself will all see me, if they have not already. I cannot stand by my queen's side as I am. And if I worry her, I may drive her to illness if I can't put an end to this. Nothing has helped me; the potions of Begnion and Crimea have failed me. What else can I do when everything else has not helped?"

Lucia pulled the cork from the bottle and carefully walked from the bed to put out the candlestick. Perhaps, she reasoned, it would come with ease in the dark. She returned to her bed and laid herself down, though she did not cover herself. She held the bottle beneath her nose and breathed the strong scent. Her mind pleaded with her in earnest protest, but she heeded it not.

Lucia drank quickly. It was stronger than the wine she was accustomed to, and it burned like fire, which she knew all too well. She fought every urge to spit it out as it coursed down her throat.

Lucia pulled the bottle away as she took the last mouthful. She surprised herself as she did it, and she coughed up what was in her mouth at the time. The foul stream fell upon her nightdress, wetting it and branding its harsh scent into the cloth. A fit of coughing seized her for some time, and she already felt sick.

She could not speak, but she found herself wondering how a man as weak as Makalov could drink something so strong with ease. When the fit subsided, Lucia began to feel ill. Despite the sickly feeling within her belly and the strong scent of liquor burning her nose, the lady found her mind lingering on her dreams no longer.

Instead, she considered finding Makalov and giving him the cause to feel far more ill than she did at present. She continued to lie there, gleefully thinking of the poorly face of the slothful fool, until exhaustion overtook her, and she could withstand it no longer.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hope that was a little more bearable than the last chapter. It was shorter anyway, although I did add some new bits to try and fill the spots my scene breaks left.


	2. Chapter II: The Letter and the Pact

**A/N: **Well, it's been a while, but I've updated this, in a manner of speaking. I've also cut it off, so I hope it's a bit more manageable to read, though I've added some details as well.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter II: The Letter and the Pact<strong>

A still and stagnant air had settled over the small chamber of the royal house of Crimea where the queen and her nobles sat in silence. The lords of the country idly watched the hours of the day pass by, and they were not at all pleased. Some drummed their fingers on the table, and others sat in still pondering, though none could suppose or presume what matters weighed upon their thoughts. Was it for the good of Crimea, or was it merely for their own personal benefit or pleasure? None could say. Yet, the one thought that any could discern among those who attended the assembly was the desire to begin, and none could see this better than Queen Elincia herself.

The young monarch reclined slightly in her seat at the head of the table. She had not kept the time, but she supposed that they had waited for half of a mark, if not longer. She looked upon her lords, and she could not have failed to notice the soured faces at this current idling. Elincia was not at all surprised by this, for the journey to Melior spanned three days for some of the lords. After such a journey, she was certain that they were eager to begin.

The queen also supposed that to sit and wait was a tiring thing even to those nobles whose domains lay closer to the capital. Even she, the queen herself, found she was growing weary of the continuing silence and lack of activity, though she was often a woman of long-suffering.

She had considered rising and taking her leave only to ease the aching that was gnawing slowly at her back. She did not even sit upon a soft cushion, though she would have welcomed it. Yet, she did not move. Elincia had learned long ago to bear even the slightest of discomforts under the watchful eye of her nurse. All the same, she did not find it welcome.

She wished for better matters to occupy her thoughts or some word to put an end to the uneasy silence that seemed to weigh upon the room. To hear her own voice make a thought known, Elincia would consider it a soothing breeze in this ornate desert, yet she knew not what she could say. To speak, she also knew, would only invite the tiresome questioning of the nobles, and so she said nothing. She had even pondered simply declaring that her council would meet again and send her attendants to their quarters, but it seemed preferable to prevent a delay.

At length, Elincia decided to count her attendants, though she knew she had no need to do so. She had known their number when they had first arrived only yesterday, but she considered any further idling to be a poorer thing, and so she began.

At her left hand sat Count Bastian of Fayre, who had for many years served her house as its prime minister when Crimea had no man to do so, though he saw less and less need to fulfill such a station. As she looked upon him, Elincia wondered if he spent the quiet moments such as this to prepare his speeches, which many of his peers often thought tedious and even incomprehensible. The queen stifled a giggle as she recalled those many words and how she had even held that same judgment at times. Yet, she quickly put such amusement aside and continued her count.

Sitting at the side of Bastian was a man of a thin stature. His brown hair grew thick upon his head and pointed face, and at the back of his head, Elincia could spot a small tail of hair as well. This man, Gallabar by name, sat as the Count of Pinell, a small region, far too small for a duke.

At his side sat a man of greater build, Horace, the Duke of Canteus, which was the westernmost territory. In sharp contrast to his peers, Horace had little hair, save for a thick mustache that had long since grayed and a few equally gray hairs on the sides of his rounded head. He had served Elincia's father before her, and the queen wondered if he were far different from the man he now was. He was a hardened figure; an imposing, humorless, calloused, stone of a man if ever the country had known one. Still, he was a loyal supporter to the queen, even if the two did not always agree, which they rarely did.

Beside Duke Horace, Duke Percival sat, and Elincia was certain that he did not let his hand stray too far from the handle of his rapier, though many thought it odd that he should carry it even here in the house of the queen. At the side of Percival, an empty chair sat alone, waiting in anticipation for its owner to arrive. This was the chair in which Lady Lucia would have sat, and the other nobles shared in its longing for her arrival.

Elincia did not dwell for long on that unfilled space before continuing her count.

Across from Lucia's chair, her own brother, Geoffrey, sat, and he kept a dutiful watch upon the place of his sister. On occasion, he looked upon the youth sitting beside it, and he would glare at him with a look that some might consider hateful.

Next to the general, a young girl who appeared barely on the cusp of womanhood sat in a silence that seemed deeper than even the unfavored silence of the chamber. Behind her, a common-looking man who appeared at least six and twenty, if not older, stood over her in a vigilant watch. The girl was Cassandra by name, and she sat as the Duchess of Arbor, which was a large region to the east of Canteus. The man was called Bruce, and he served her as her bodyguard and her voice, for Cassandra did not speak. Elincia could not keep herself from sighing as she looked upon the girl.

Always did she appear in sorrow, and she chose to clothe herself in raiment of dark purple that seemed rather plain for a noblewoman. Her hair of violet only seemed to make her appear all the more woeful, like a heavy cloud that bore no rain but only served to hide the sun. The queen watched briefly as the girl childishly fingered her golden hairpins, which stood in sharp contrast as the sun through the gray skies. Already Elincia felt her heart grow heavy within her chest as she observed the duchess, and she quickly looked away to continue her tally.

Next to Cassandra, a man with a clean face sat. His bright hair set him apart from the other nobles, whose hair was colored the same shade as the earth, as did his age, though he was older than Percival, Cassandra, and even Lady Lucia by at least one year. This was Count Erebus, steward of the region of Nados. He was of a lesser noble line for the blood of Nados was now lost, and so he had risen to take its place.

Elincia could not help but give a shudder as she looked upon him. He appeared to her eyes as one of the great hooded snakes of the desert; regal but only to hide its true nature and inborn danger. Whispers had lingered that Erebus was a man of plots and schemes, and that when he looked upon another, he did so only to his advance and benefit. The queen knew it to be true.

Finally, Elincia came to her uncle, Lord Renning, who sat at her right hand. When they had returned from Begnion, and he had followed, she had wasted little time in naming him her prime minister, though some had assumed that she would have laid her crown at his feet. He, on the other hand, had wasted no time in bending his knee to Elincia, and Renning declared that he would offer his service to her in whatever manner she wished. And so she had granted him a place at her side, and Elincia was glad to have him so near to her.

As she finished her count, the silence of the chamber seemed to press in upon its tenants; a silence too great to withstand. Elincia thought again to dismiss the nobles, for she did not think she could bear to wait for much longer. Her back still ached, and she found her desire to move about growing with the dull pain.

"Perhaps, we should simply begin now," said Horace at length, catching the queen by surprise. She had considered standing to give her decision, but she found she had pondered the matter for too long. Horace looked towards his ruler and continued. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, I do not see why we should postpone this assembly for the sake of Lady Lucia. Her Ladyship has no real power, beyond the soldiers under her command, and therefore, she has no real say in the council. Why should we wait for her?"

Not a head in the chamber moved to support the lord of Canteus, though the head of Count Erebus lightly nodded. A sly and wicked smile spread across his face as he discreetly showed his agreement with such words. Elincia lightly cleared her throat, and then she spoke.

"You say you speak with all due respect, my lord," the queen began, "and yet you show disrespect for your peers. We shall wait for Lady Lucia, for she has as much of a right to attend this council as you do, Lord Canteus."

Before the duke could speak a single word or even open his mouth to answer, the steward of Nados turned to the queen. When she took note of the same ill guile upon his face as he earlier showed, Elincia felt herself sour inside, for she rightly suspected that he held a thinly-veiled affront.

"How so?" he asked with a voice thick with all the pomp and pride that many considered the voice of a true nobleman. "How do you reason that Lady Lucia has such a right? To my knowledge, she does not stand for any region of our country, nor does she own a piece of it, as we do. What entitlement does that give her?"

Elincia shook her head and gave a laugh bereft of amusement before she spoke, "In the future, Lord Erebus, you will wait for the crown to recognize you. I had addressed Lord Horace, not you. However, if you wish to know what entitlement Lady Lucia holds, she and her brother sit as representatives for the region of Delbray. I am sure we are all praying for the swift recovery of their father, the count. Since he is ill, should not his children take his place?"

Erebus only scoffed at the words of the queen. "They hardly spend enough days in Delbray to know its affairs. How can they offer any words of the land they supposedly represent if they do not spend even a day there? They do not represent Delbray. I would argue that Lady Lucia sits merely as a representative of yourself, Your Majesty. I do not believe she is entitled to any consideration on this council. For that matter, I do not believe her brother is entitled to a place among us as well."

"General Geoffrey sits for our army," Elincia replied. "He has led men into battle and even death for the sake of Crimea. Should his soldiers not have one who will speak for them? Lucia has done the same, and I will not deny them what they have rightfully earned, by birth and by merit."

Again, the steward only replied with a sneer and a scoff. "While we can agree upon his valor in the face of war, I do not believe that a life of such conduct grants any man such a right as to attend this council. Nor should the same be said of Lady Lucia. She has shown her willingness to die for you, Your Majesty, but should that be sufficient to bring her to a station among us? It seems that our queen acts favorably towards her favored allies. Or perhaps you intend to have your army rule a portion of Crimea. I know that Lucia has her men watch over the people and us as well. Perhaps, you intend to know which of us is more likely to displease you so that you may have us seized."

"Oh, steward," said Bastian. "How long shall you persist in this? Oh, keeper of Nados, how long shall you devote the days of your life to this cause? Shall you always speak such dissension when the need does not arise? Shall you only offer controversies that no other has seen, save for those who do not know the keeping of their own business? When did men of this country learn to speak as the woman who cares only for the doings of her neighbors? Oh, what this man would give to know, yet he is but a humble man who thinks only of the good of his motherland for it is truly the only care with which he need concern himself."

"Do you compare me to a woman, Count?" Erebus asked with a great offense ringing in his voice. "As for your only care as you say it, I very much doubt that Crimea is your only concern," the steward added, casting a brief yet indicative glance at Lucia's seat.

To all but those who knew him well, Bastian did not appear to hold any affront, though Elincia did see a change in the look of his eyes, and his face did hold a rather subtle look of one who had suffered insult.

"What say you, man?" said he. "What say you when you look so upon the lady's chair?"

The queen held up her hand, bidding upon them for silence. While she had earlier wished for word and deed to come upon her counseling chamber, she found she did not welcome the words spoken and the deeds done here and now.

"That will do, my lord Bastian." Her eyes then fell upon Count Erebus. "As for you, you talk a great deal, but your talk amounts to nonsense, especially for a man who has held his station for only a short time. If I had wished Geoffrey to arrest those who offend me, I would have need of more prisons. As for your earlier claims, I will say it only once more. Lady Lucia and her brother stand for Delbray in the absence of their father. While we talk of this issue, may I remind you, my lord, that they are of a noble line. They are noble through blood, and you, Count Erebus, are merely noble through my appointment."

A chorus of snide chuckles arose from the mouths of the attendees, save the wounded man and the Lord of Canteus. Erebus did not answer. Instead, he merely shifted about in his chair in the hopes to avoid looking upon the woman who sat at the head of the table.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Horace said quickly. "I did not mean to cause my younger peer to speak in such a way. I, myself, spoke with no offense intended. If Your Majesty wishes it, then we will wait for the lady. However, the hour grows late, and to prolong this council on the account of one person is merely a waste of our time. I have not come from Canteus only to sit and wait."

From where she sat, Elincia caught sight of Bastian's head slowly nodding.

"Indeed, Majesty. I do not deny that our visitor speaks rightly, for though I, too, desire the lady to grace us, your royal chambers suit themselves to the stately deeds far better than the idle musings."

"Fetch one of the servants and tell them to bring a pitcher of the best wine I have from my storeroom." The guard wasted no time in heeding the request, though Lord Renning gave his niece a curious glace. Horace and Bastian did the same.

"My queen," began the Prime Minister, holding to formality in court, "surely you don't intend to serve us wine at this early hour. It is only the fourth hour of the morning." Elincia met the eyes of her uncle and laid her hand upon his.

"Would you rather that we continue to sit and wait for Lucia? We have done just that, and all we have accomplished is pointless bickering. If we must delay, then let us at least enjoy it." As she saw the mouth of Horace open, the queen glanced at him with a hardened look. "Hold your challenges for the council, my lord," said she.

Indeed, no man said a word until the servant came to place a silver goblet before each and fill it with the deep red fruit of the queen's vine. As the lords partook of the drink, a collection of grateful sounds rose up towards the head of the table. "Is the wine to everyone's liking?" Elincia asked, setting her own cup down. A few of the gathered nodded and raised their goblets in accord.

"Only our graceful queen would freely give us, her people, but the choicest fruits of her house's vineyards," proclaimed Count Bastian.

When again the nobles began to grow bored, the queen took note of how they slowed the consumption, and their expressions again turned to stone. In contrast, Erebus only crossed his arms and scowled, yet he spoke not a word, opting to fill his mouth quickly.

Elincia began idly moving her goblet, half-emptied by now, back and forth between sips, and the sight of the drink flowing this way and that amused her, though she did not know why. Once or twice, she briskly moved her hand in a circle just to watch the wine swirl about. When her cup ran dry and the silence that she could not bear returned, the doors of the council chamber flew open with a loud thump.

The eyes of all, except the queen's, turned towards the front of the room to behold the hurried intruder.

* * *

><p>It was Lucia stumbling hastily into the chamber, and she almost fell over her own feet as she entered. Though she could see them not, Elincia was certain that, when the faces of shock and surprise at her abrupt arrival had faded, her nobles gazed upon Lucia with faces of pity, for she was a pitiful sight. Her long hair ran untamed, as though she had taken no effort to keep it. Her face appeared devoid of its youth and color, save for a tinge of red in her cheeks. Her eyes, once a shining shade of blue, now appeared as dull stones in the eyes of the queen, and Elincia managed to catch sight of a set of dark circles lying beneath them.<p>

Yes, she was indeed a pitiful sight.

Her breathing was quick and labored, as if she had run at great speed. While Lucia was a woman of strength in heart and body, it seemed that she had compelled herself to do more than she was able.

When she observed the spectacle that she had just caused, Lucia stood erect and first bowed slightly to the queen. "My apologies, Your Majesty and Your Graces," she said with the grace of her class. "I did not realize we were in session today."

It was a lie, and Elincia had known it, for she knew Lucia to not often forget such matters, but she did not wish to question her on the matter. She, instead, gently waved her hand towards the empty seat. "It's quite all right, Lucia," she replied softly and sweetly. "Please take your seat, and we will begin."

Lucia again stood straight and proud, and she walked towards the chair. As she neared, Lord Percival rose from his own seat to pull Lucia's chair out for her. Most paid little mind to a gesture such as this, for it was a fitting thing to do for a lady. However, Geoffrey frowned, and he glared at the young duke. If he had hoped his look of distaste would not be noticed, he was mistaken, for Elincia had seen it. If the queen could describe them, her milk-brother's eyes were as the sun beating down mercilessly on a dry land during a drought. She knew she must speak to him, but she would do so later.

After Lucia had taken her place, Elincia called the council to order. "Tell me of the land, tell me of your regions, tell me of how we may make Crimea prosper," she charged her lords.

At once, Percival beckoned for the recognition of the queen, and she granted him such. "Your Majesty," the duke began rather tactfully, as though he had prepared his words, "before I speak of my lands, I have a motion that I wish to bring before you."

"Please do so, Lord Percival," the queen replied.

"I respectfully request that you call back the small number of your soldiers stationed in Felirae. I also request that you permit me to begin recruiting new men to form my own personal guard."

A low murmur rose from all in attendance, save for Lucia and Cassandra. Though their words were indiscernible, the queen could not help but wonder what things her nobles whispered among themselves concerning the request. She supposed that Percival wondered the very same thing. Geoffrey, however, silenced the quiet wind with a loud gale as he rose sharply and pointed an accusing finger at the youth.

"So, you wish to raise your own army as your predecessor did. See here how he shows his true nature. Tell us, cur, what would you do with the men you invite to serve you? I've no doubt you would continue what Ludveck began. I knew you to be many things, but even I cannot believe you would be so bold to ask the queen, to her face no less, to invite her own ruin."

"I thought of no such thing, general," Percival countered, holding up his hands to his challenger. He then turned his eyes towards the queen. "Your Majesty, please believe that I had no such intentions. My request was that you cede the sovereignty of Felirae entirely to me. As things stand now, the soldiers in my house limit my every move. I can no more step outside without a face of Melior behind me. And if I am not mistaken," he added, meeting the harsh gaze of the general, "each of them was chosen personally by you. Your Majesty, they all boast of how they will have me removed from power or worse, if only to please their general. Please, my queen, I ask that you remove them from my land."

Geoffrey quickly spoke again, though he did not see the lips of his ruler begin to move as he did, "It seems to me only a traitor would claim sovereignty for his land without recognizing the right of the ruler."

"Oh, how long shall men of age act as though they were but babes pushed forth from their mothers?" Bastian interjected rather rhetorically as he sometimes enjoyed to do. "Were the whole kingdom made of men who conduct themselves in such an infantile manner, no kingdom would there be." At first, the chamber fell silent as the words of the count entered slowly into the ears of the hearers.

"I am not acting below my age," replied Geoffrey at length. "I am trying to prevent another struggle for Elincia's crown. I would think you would do the same, or would you rather he," the general pointed a slim lance of a finger at the heart of the youth, "take our country while we slept?"

"That is enough," Elincia said in sharp rebuke, a voice that few knew the queen to use often. "General Geoffrey, while we are in session, you will hold your tongue unless I recognize you. Now, sit down."

When he did so, the queen turned to Percival, "I will see your birthright fully restored in due time, but for now, I ask you to abide the presence of my soldiers further. However, if the things you have said are true, I shall see to it that any man who means you ill is held accountable. As for allowing you to call up fighting men, that is something I will not allow at this time. You are a man of honor, Lord Percival, but it would invite ruin, as the general has said, if I were to permit this thing."

Her words seemed to satisfy the duke, though as he leaned back in his chair, he spoke only once more, and it seemed to the queen that he spoke as one who had resigned himself to his fate, though it pleased him not. "I will accept your judgment, Your Majesty, but when you speak of ruin, may I ask of whose ruin do you speak?"

The queen did not answer. She instead began to turn her eyes towards Count Bastian, but before she could utter even a single thing, she spotted the raised hand and pointed finger of Erebus from the corner of her eye. He, too, sought the acknowledging of his ruler, though he did not wait for her to grant him such.

"I have a proposition for Your Majesty's consideration," he said. "In contrast to my peer, I believe this is a more weighty matter, and I believe you shall agree as well."

Elincia merely folded her hands and set them on the table. Her face was unreadable, though it was hardly a secret that she rarely held the thoughts of the steward in the same accord. She did not care for the tone in which he spoke, for it seemed as if he dared to command her as well. Nevertheless, the queen smiled and spoke.

"Tell me of this proposition then, my lord," she bade, hoping her voice did not betray her heart. Erebus, likewise, smiled, but it was a haughty grin as he gave his answer.

"As I understand it, Your Majesty, the war with Begnion has emptied much of your coffers. It was a costly matter to enforce our neutral stance. Therefore, I propose a series of new taxes be placed upon Crimea." Elincia felt her shoulders grow stiff at the very mention of such a thought as that. She had wished to command the steward to remain silent, for she would not abide his talk. Yet, she said nothing of the sort, if only to conduct herself well.

"What sorts of taxes do you propose I enact?" she asked.

"In the first place, I propose a new tax on the plowing of land for this coming spring. It is your land, but the common people may forget that it is due to your permission that they may work it. I also suggest that you place a tax on the building of new barns by farmers, on their cattle and sheep, and also a tax on their children." Erebus did not make any effort at all to hide the disfavor towards the people of which he spoke against, and Queen Elincia found herself stricken mute for a moment at his suggestions.

"You must surely be joking, Lord Erebus," said she in utter astonishment when she had found her voice, "a tax on our children. How could one think of such a thing, to say nothing of the other taxes you've put before me?" Indeed, as she looked about the room, many of the other nobles, save for Duchess Cassandra and, strangely, Lucia, glanced at their peers with disbelief written across their faces at the notion. Elincia quickly spoke again so that the Steward of Nados would not, "You are tasked with making Crimea prosperous, and you would have me resort to thievery."

"I suggested nothing of the sort, Your Majesty. After all, is not the whole of the country yours to begin with? I merely suggest that you take advantage of it. As for the tax on children, it might discourage those common rabble from breeding with so little care. I have heard some families even have as many as twelve children. Why, our lands would be overrun if this were to go on."

"Overrun, you say, Steward," Count Bastian interrupted quickly. "Shall we then consider the sons and daughters of this land as we consider the unwanted creatures? Shall a man be counted as a mouse, or shall a woman be counted as a rat? 'Tis a sad thought to hold the very land itself in such contempt. More than that, you should know, Steward, that a man once thought as you do now, and the very name of that man is now a venom to the tongue of the faithful."

All who sat around the table and stood at their posts knew he spoke of Ludveck, for he, too, thought little of his own people. Erebus rose quickly and pointed an angry finger towards the count.

"Do not mock me!" he shouted, "and do not question my loyalties nor compare me to the traitor. I have only served our queen, and I only seek her best interests. Her best interest is to fill her treasury."

"Nay," the Count of Fayre proclaimed with assuredness. He, likewise rose to meet the man who had challenged him. "It is not the queen's coffers you concern yourself with. Yes, it is your own purse that provides your reason. It is no secret that you regard not the people, but your own interests. Your very nature betrays you, Steward of Nados."

Before either man could speak even a single letter, Elincia called them to order and bade them to sit. The queen then addressed them in turn. "I did not address you, Lord Basitan," she said, "however, I do value your support. As for you, Lord Erebus, I will not grant your motion. I will not lay a burden upon my people when I have no need to do so. My treasury will fill in due time. Tell me this," she added, "do you think that I am blind to you? I have received many letters from you asking of Nados Castle. Did you not think that I would realize you would ask me again of its rebuilding, even indirectly?"

Erebus scowled and sneered at the queen, for he now had no need to hide his thoughts and ill sentiments on the matter.

"Ever since you came to power, my castle has laid in ruins. For two years, I waited even as other lands were wiped clean of Daein's march. Then the war came. I had excused it then, but I will not excuse it now. My castle is naught but fallen stone, but you have not enough gold to pay a single mason to lay a single stone. Now, I ask again, will you accept these taxes?"

"I will not," Elincia replied. "And I will say no more of it. If I were to all but steal from my people, I will sow nothing but the seeds of dissatisfaction, and that is not a harvest I wish to reap again. Besides, it is not as though you sleep outside. I believe you own a fine manor, and that should serve you well enough."

Her words, though firm and final, were not enough to silence the Steward of Nados.

"Again, you speak of your people. I should think that, for the sake of your rule, you should concern yourself more with the affairs of your nobles instead of the common rabble." His words were harsh, and, to some, a veil of a threat.

"You would dare threaten your queen," shouted Lord Renning. "If you do, then I would mind your tongue now. If you mean harm to her, even if her retribution doesn't fall hard on you, I can promise mine will."

"I would hardly dare to do, Your Excellency," Erebus answered, now quite meek and mild in his tone. "I am simply pointing out that Her Majesty's devotion to these peasants will lead to her own undoing. She hopes to pamper them, and once that is done, I ask you, will they work? Will they labor as they did?"

Queen Elincia did not hear what other words were spoken among Count Erebus and the other nobles, for she did not listen. She found her eyes drawn to the farthest chair on her left side. She watched as Lucia did not move, and she heard her fail to speak in support of her. It seemed to the queen that Lucia paid no mind to any thought that was said at the table. And when, in her ears, Elincia heard a chorus of laughter at some joke which she did not hear, she saw Lucia did not share in the amusement. She might have laughed and smiled to herself at other times when such diversion came, but she did nothing.

Elincia wondered at the silence of her milk-sister, but she did not speak of it. When the nobles did not end their laughter, she struck the table and called for order. The men grew quiet at her command, and then she spoke.

"Let us proceed with this council," she said. "I have heard two motions now, and I believe we have time for better matters."

"I heartily agree with Her Highness," declared Count Gallabar quickly. "We've wasted enough time when we have better things to speak of here." Though Elincia would welcome such agreement and support, she did not, for Gallabar was a man of a weak-mind. He would sway to the thoughts of his ruler without hesitation or question.

"Please save your consent for other matters," Elincia admonished him. When he gave no answer, she addressed the assembly. "I wish you now to tell me of my kingdom. Tell me, are my people cared for or do they find fault? If they do, then tell me why. Despite the opinions of some, our people are the pillars of this country, and I will take measures so that those pillars will not be shaken." Hurriedly, she looked to Basitan before continuing. "You may begin first, and the rest shall follow."

He did so, and then Gallabar followed, and then Horace spoke of his realm. When Lucia was bidden to speak, she did not. She said nothing of what her spies might have seen and heard. She continued to sit still and silent, appearing as if a thick fog had fallen around her, leaving her blind to all else. Elincia thought to call her name, but when she saw the others leaning forward to gaze upon Lucia, save for Cassandra who only gazed idly at the table, the queen said nothing, though questions began to arise in her thoughts.

"I have heard from some of Lucia's men," Geoffrey proclaimed at length. The nobles sat back in their chairs as he went on to the great easing of the chamber. "They have told me of matters in Delbray. All is well. Father continues to improve, slowly, but he is well. We have had no cause for concern, though some worry about the consequences of our war with Begnion. However, it is a very small number of the people."

Elincia nodded at his report, though her eyes did not depart from Lucia. Then her eyes turned to the Duchess of Arbor. Cassandra only continued to idly finger one of her hairpins, toying with it as if she were not certain whether to leave it in or pull it out. The queen thought to pass over her, but she knew she must ask a question of her. And so, with a voice only of duty, she addressed the girl.

"And what of Arbor, Your Grace. How do your people fare?"

"I must beg the queen's pardon," replied Bruce, "But the mistress knows nothing of Arbor. She has not set foot on her own soil ever since she was sent away to Melior by her father. You should know this, with all due respect, Your Majesty." To the dismay of the queen and all those who attended as well, Count Erebus saw fit to speak again.

"And yet she retains her inheritance," he said rather haughtily, raising one arm and placing his curled fingers against his cheek. His words were not given any reply, not even from Bruce in defense of his charge.

"I can tell you of what is happening in Arbor, and I can also tell you that their land is in dire need," the queen stated with a certain tone of distaste, both of the steward and of the events of which she spoke. She looked beyond the table to one of the guards. "Bring the chest," she commanded. The guard marched quickly to a cabinet at the back of the room, behind the queen's chair. He strode to his ruler with a wooden chest in hand, which he promptly set before her. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed him, and he returned to his post.

Elincia opened the box, and from it she took a piece of parchment. It was rolled and bound with a blue ribbon and sealed with an emblem bearing a sheaf of wheat encircled by a ring of blossoms. It was the symbol of the region of Arbor, and the queen wasted no time in removing the binding and the seal with it.

"I received this letter upon our return to Melior," she explained. It was sent to me from Ferax, the largest city in the territory and where Your Grace's castle stands. I shall let it speak for itself." With that, she unrolled the letter and began to read.

_To Her Most Exalted Majesty, Elincia Ridell Crimea_

_Greetings,_

_I send this letter to you under the most trying of circumstances. Arbor is, at present, in a state of upheaval. With the loss of our former duke along with his daughter and heir and the scattering of our fighting force, a lawlessness has fallen upon the region. People live in fear of bandits, and many of our officials who watch over the towns have abandoned their posts, under the thought that they shall be removed by the crown as punishment for the involvement of Arbor in the Summer Rebellion. In an effort to counter these events, many vigilante clans have arisen. In some places, these clans assist village and city guards, however, in others, they have become a law unto themselves. In these place, people have been taken from their homes and either whipped, suffered loss of limb, or even hanged due to mere whispers of wrongdoing. The worst of these clans are the Falcon League, the Keepers of Arbor, and Guild of Law and Order. The first has grown in strength and numbers, and I fear that they may attempt to do more harm to our land._

_Many times I have rung the warning bells for which our city was known in the hopes of calling our men together, and I have rung them in vain. What small remnant of our fighting men I could find will not take up arms for Arbor, saying they have vowed never to do so again. Others who would take up arms say they will never do so unless the heir of Calihem returns to us, and yet others say they will throw down their swords if the blood of Calihem returns. I have tried to do as my lord would have done, and I have failed. I fear for Arbor, Your Majesty, for we surely cannot stand in a region divided as ours is. It is my hope that you will find the words to persuade our duchess to return to Arbor and unite us as her father before her did. I await your reply and hope for good tidings._

_Lord Delavin, Protector and Steward of Arbor._

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><p>When Elincia had read the last of the letter, she rolled it up as it was, though she did not place it back inside the chest. Instead, she beckoned to one of her guards as she had before and bade him to place the scroll before Cassandra, which he did. The duchess did not regard it in the least, for she only stared without thought towards it, and she did not cease to toy with her hairpins. Again, as it had earlier, a heavy silence fell upon the chamber, as every eye looked to Cassandra. She paid them no heed, as if she did not acknowledge her peers.<p>

"Did you not hear what your queen has said?" Lord Renning asked at length.

"My mistress has heard, milord," said Bruce. "She is not deaf," he added with a falter in his voice, as if he did not wish to speak those very words.

"She may as well be," Count Erebus muttered to himself, though loud enough to hear.

"That will do, Count," Elincia replied. Her eyes then looked to the duchess, and they were eyes of a most earnest sort. "Please, my lady Cassandra," pleaded the queen. "Your lands need you. Will you not go back? Will you not go to preserve what is yours?"

"My mistress will not," said Bruce, bowing his head as he spoke. "She will remain here."

"Please," the queen said again. "If not for the sake of the land, then for the sake of your father, please return to Arbor." Once more, Bruce dismissed the words of the crown on behalf of his mistress, who only continued to do as she had done. Back and forth went the queen and the bodyguard of the duchess. Others added their voices, hoping to persuade Cassandra, but again, she would not heed them.

"I did not grant you sanctuary in my court for you to hide yourself away," Elincia declared at length, now wearied in voice. "I cannot believe that one who was born for this lot would disregard it as you do. I didn't think I was ready to be your queen, but I accepted it. Will you not do the same?"

And when her words were given no answer except for a refusal, Elincia sighed and raised her hands to yield to the duchess. Though she did not think much of it at this occasion, Lucia had not spoken in support of her queen's cause. When the queen again looked towards her milk-sister, she saw that she continued to gaze forward. She wondered what thought would occupy the lady so, for it seemed to weigh heavily upon her. She did not gaze upon Lucia for long, as she knew other matters were yet to be spoken among the council.

When Lord Renning had given his account, short as it was, the queen spoke again of one such matter; one that she had purposely held back. She did not wish to speak of it, but she knew she must.

"How goes the war? How do my troops fare in their campaigns?"

"Your Highness," said Renning, "isn't that too strong of a word? I have only been back in Crimea a short time, but I do know of the Summer Rebellion. I wouldn't think the surviving rebels have done enough harm to have this called a war."

"Perhaps not, Chancellor," Elincia answered. "But my armies still roam the land, and they have seen open conflict with my enemies. I can think of no other word for it."

They spoke of this for the rebellion had not ended at Fort Alpea. Though Lord Ludveck was now in prison for his crimes, the few soldiers of Felirae who had managed to flee the battle and the attack of Ike and his mercenaries had found a haven among other nobles who had shared the vision of the traitor. Though they had remained hidden during the war with Begnion, the nobles had raised a new army to free the man they would have as king. Yet, Elincia, upon her return, struck the first blow, sending both high noble and common soldier into hiding. Now, she had tasked her armies with finding them.

Elincia reached again into the chest and retrieved another scroll. At her call, a guard again came and removed the box, and then she unrolled the document.

It was a pact written in Ludveck's hand, and it bore the names of other men who had named him as their king and sworn to support him as such. It was a pact of traitors. When the rebellion had begun, it was Lucia who had taken this treacherous accord from the house of Ludveck himself. It was this pact that had allowed Elincia to strike first and scatter her foes to the winds.

"Tell me," she commanded her council, "what efforts have you taken to find these men? What news is there from the battlefields? Have your men found success?"

Lord Horace cleared his throat and spoke first. "Before I began my journey to Melior, I and my troops swept through the western countryside," said he as solemn as he always was. "We encountered several small bands of rebel soldiers. They fought well for such numbers, but they were defeated. I found my brother, Lord Neman, at their head. At his side, I also found Count Yenid of Nados. The latter surrendered to me without hesitation, though as he was little more than a small village leader, it was hardly a fight. My brother, however, fought as befitting the kin of a duke."

"Well done," said Queen Elincia, though it hardly sounded as praise. "Forgive my lack of gladness at your words, but I can't imagine brother fighting brother. What became of them, if I may?" she added. "Do they sit in prison?"

"No, my queen," answered the Duke of Canteus. "When their men laid down their weapons, I commanded that they be killed at once. Yenid fell at the hands of my fighting men. As for Neman, I saw to it that he died at my own hand. It was quick and painless, so put your mind at ease in that regard, Your Majesty."

The queen hung her head in sadness at those words. For though Horace was a man who did truly kneel to his queen, he was often without mercy towards those he deemed enemies, while his ruler wished to show mercy even towards those who meant her harm.

"I am sorry, Lord Horace" she managed to say. "As the son of a noble line, I would wish to see that your brother is buried in your family tomb."

"Do not waste your sympathies, Your Highness. Neman was my twin brother, yes, but he was a traitor first and foremost. I have only done what must be done. As for his burial, I have already seen to that. He lies in the water, and it may carry him where it wishes. I will have no betrayer resting with the loyal."

It was then that Geoffrey spoke. "I had found an encampment of rebels hiding in the Marhaut Range about six days ago. Upon our return, I assembled my troops and rode out for them. The circumstances that brought us into the conflict were quite strange, Your Majesty. I had received a message with no signature or mark of any kind, and I can only assume that it is the work of the man of the shadows."

"It is strange that you mention him, General Geoffrey," Lord Horace exclaimed just then. "Like you, I had also received aid from this man." He turned his eyes towards the head of the table before he went on. "Your Majesty, when I had found the place where the rebels met, my troops and I found sentries posted nearby, and they were all dead. A single strike with a broad blade was the only sign we found. It gave us the advantage when my men struck."

"Whoever this man is," said Elincia. "He is surely an ally of ours. If only I knew who he was so that I may reward him."

"I would not think to reward him, Your Majesty," answered Geoffrey. "He may have aided us, but this man does not seem to be any sort of ally to you. I cannot help but wonder why he does as he does. If he aids us now, why did he not when the rebellion began?"

"Who can say?" Count Bastian uttered, some to himself and some to the assembly. "Who can say what things will cause a man to rise at one moment and hide himself away the next? Surely, I cannot judge his heart, for I do not know him as none do. Yet, I can judge each strike of his and how each has indeed found true the mark of which he intends. For these moments, general and to you, Majesty, I daresay he is for us."

Queen Elincia could only nod before she motioned to Geoffrey. "I believe Count Bastian is right in what he says. For now, I shall consider this man an ally. Now, general, please continue with your account."

"Yes, Your Majesty, as I was saying. We overtook the rebel camp, and our armies clashed. We thought we would prevail, but they fled higher into the mountains. We pursued them and managed to trap them in a cave. It was then a siege, Your Majesty. They were desperate at the end, and they could not fight well. We met with success, for we have captured Count Okale of Pinell. I regret to say, Your Majesty," he added with a solemn voice, lacking any joy or pride at such a feat, "that the cost was great to take him. Thanks to that imbecile, Makalov, we have many wounded, including Lady Astrid. Her wounds are the gravest. However, they are all still alive, and Kieran will deliver the count in two days along with Astrid and Makalov. The others shall come later."

The queen gave a smile of relief at his tidings, knowing that though the cost was in blood, it had not cost many lives. At this, Lord Horace, himself, motioned to one of the guards and asked that he set the pact before him. With the assent of his ruler, the guard did so. The duke wasted little time in snatching the pact from its bearer. The man of stone let his eyes glance briefly over, and then he bade the guard to set it again before Elincia's eyes.

"That is all of them," he declared with a clear voice of triumph. "Neman, Yenid, Okale, and Calihem – each man a traitor and each man either dead as they should be or as well as it. The heads of the rebel armies have fallen. With the last of the dissenters dealt with, Your Majesty, I believe that the Summer Rebellion has been utterly crushed."

As he spoke, Cassandra turned towards him with a fierce glare of anger burning through her eyes. Her lips parted to reveal an enraged sneer. No sound came from her, save a heated growl from her throat. Behind her, Bruce winced as though he were struck, though no blow had touched him. His face became one of regret as he turned towards the nobleman.

"Do not ever mention the mistress's father like that again," he said in a voice very unlike his face, for he spoke with the same anger painted across the face of the girl. "Her father was more of a man of Crimea that you ever were. Show his name the respect he has earned."

"I'll not be spoken to like that by some mewling child, even if she does not speak for herself," Horace exclaimed with a snarl, as he rose sharply to his feet to accept the challenge given to him. His hands tightened into fists that quivered and shook with his anger. "If her father were here now, I would take him out like the traitor he was and hang him myself."

"That is enough," proclaimed Queen Elincia. "Take your seat, Lord Horace." When he had done so, she continued. "As for your words, if you were to do so, you would follow him. Calihem is dead, and his misdeeds, I have forgiven. We shall never speak of his name in such a way again, my lady Cassandra."

Horace merely muttered under his breath. At length, Percival again made a request to speak.

"Speak, then, Lord Percvial. Tell us, what say you?" the queen inquired.

"I am glad for your victories over Crimea's enemies, Your Majesty, but I believe there is one last measure towards ending even the very notion of support for the rebellion. For almost a count of four weeks, the instigator has rotted in his cell while his cohorts struggle to free him. For the sake of your country, I believe you have postponed Ludveck's execution for too long. He has been tried and found guilty according to the laws of our kingdom, and I believe your court gave him a sentence of death as he is due."

Without address, though none spoke against him, General Geoffrey again spoke his thoughts concerning the youth, "Do you wish to see him die, my lord?" his voice all but spat the title in contempt. "If you do, why? He is as good as your father, so surely you must have some benefit to motion for his death."

"He is nothing like my father, though I never knew my father well. Ludveck only wished to have an heir as he was not married. He was not my father, and he never was. He has proved it time and time again."

"Or perhaps, you wish to see him die only to secure your own hold on Felirae. Though his title is removed from him, Ludveck would no doubt take back his lands if he were to escape somehow."

Percival only shook his head. "Do you oppose it only because I suggest it, general? You are just as eager as I, though your desire is to see the wrongs upon your family avenged." Geoffrey folded his arms and leaned back with a scoff. The Duke of Felirae turned to the queen, though his eye never lost sight of the general. Again he spoke, though with a regained composure. "The only benefit I would have, my queen, is that I would sleep well knowing a traitor had received his dues. You should know this, Your Majesty. He is what the rebels fight for. He is their figurehead, and if they lose him, their fight is lost. Please, Your Majesty, sign his death warrant. Let the hangman take charge of him."

"Your concerns are deserved, Lord Percival," said Queen Elincia, paying no mind to the outburst earlier displayed. "Indeed, removing Ludveck would deliver a harder blow to his followers, but if you will remember, the sentence of my court would be carried out at my discretion. I will not execute him, at least not yet."

The duke answered with a slight frown. "Your Majesty, listen to reason," he began at length, unwilling to let the matter pass. "The people see the error of their support, and his army is disorganized. As for any hope they may hold of re-forging their steel, their leaders are, as Lord Canteus has pointed out, either dead or soon to be dead. Why prolong this any further?"

Bastian cautiously wagged his finger at the youth, "Speak not in haste, my young friend. Does the sapling counsel the tree in how it must grow or how it must bear its fruit? Nay, for the seed does not yet know itself how to grow. Our queen takes her own council in the dealing of justice in this matter, and she holds that some greater purpose does the former man of Felirae have, else she would not delay the taking of his life. Yet, another cause may there be for this prolonging. You say he is their figurehead, but if the figurehead falls too soon, would it not rather empower those it inspired; for surely those who share his vision will seek due vengeance."

The Duke of Felirae furrowed his brow at the poetic tongue that had given its rebuke, and he struck the table with his palm. "What possible reason could there be in keeping him alive? You deduce that Her Majesty has some plan for Ludveck, but what could that plan be?"

"If you will listen, I will tell you," said Elincia. "It is true, as Count Bastian guesses. I will not execute him yet, for there is still one leader remaining; a man far worse than any other."

A hush fell over the chamber at the words of the royal. Each of those present, save Lucia, Bastian and Cassandra, glanced at each other and then to the queen with bewildered faces, and those faces soon became eager looks. The assembly leaned in to hear what their ruler would say.


	3. Chapter III: Traces of Distrust

**A/N: **Happy new year, one and all. Yes, I realize that it's been some time, and I'm sorry it took me so long to update this. What also took some time is that I've been adding, cutting, and rewording and doing it over and over.

Everything you recognize belongs to Nintendo. Everything you don't belongs to me.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter III: Traces of Distrust<strong>

At the breaking of the dawn, just as he had done so the previous day, Otis climbed the steps that extended up the slope to Palmeni Temple. His pace was sluggish and unconcerned, for he was, by now, wearied by his devious labors. He had not yet slept after his encounter with the horseman, Robert, nor had he hardly taken rest over the past two days. Though his legs were a weighty irons to him, the wandering rascal cared little for his fatigue. The wild thoughts would not permit themselves to take delay or respite. Much remained for him to do, and the soldier he had only now engaged to willful service pleased him greatly, to the point of newly gained strength. Yes, it served little to sleep, Otis had earlier determined, for it was not the promise of rest that brought his steps back to the deserted house of Ashera. Still, he reasoned, if his efforts were not made in vain, the once-grand shrine could afford him a suitable place to lay his head.

When, at last, his feet stopped before the door of the shrine, held open as the jaws of some enormous creature, Otis paused without even as much as a sigh of gladness at having scaled the mountain road a second time. He peered into the darkened mouth before his eyes, though he did spot a few lamps still burning ahead of him. With little thought, Otis stepped inside.

The Crimean rogue again breathed in the rank and moldy odor that still lingered in the air as he went about his way, but his nose found the fetid stench of rot that remained of the dead man, Parzal. Otis cared not a thing for the foul stink, for such, he considered, the final destiny of all. Yet while his nose dismissed the scent, his eyes darted about the chamber as the eagle does before the snatch. Otis saw no remains, no body, no certain remnant of the dead man. Although he found it strange that the body of Parzal no longer lay where the assassin had fallen, the wanderer took little time to discern as to why.

He slowly and silently drew his sword. Worn as it was, Otis was sure it would be of use, or if he could but reach it quickly, the dagger sheathed upon his belt would serve him better if the need to kill should arise.

A step he took, and no assailant met him. A second step and then a third, and the murderer of a murderer peered into the shadows of the temple as his darted back and forth in the still-burning lamplight. The man eagerly searched for signs of movement in the dim light. His heart quickened within his chest. His breaths hastened, and his limbs, once as hardened as cooled metal, were again as flesh.

Otis thought back to his years when the men of high blood would hunt down the great stags and wild beats for the mere churning of their blood in elated excitation. Now, he hunted those things far wilder than simple deer, and it thrilled him, in part, to do so. As he took another step, he heard the sound of expectant and quite nervous breathing, the rustling of loosely worn cloth, and the drumming of rapid footfalls from behind.

As the sounds drew near, Otis took a quick step to turn halfway 'round and met the short blade of a knife with the blade of his sword. The roving vagabond caught a glance of stone-blue hair and toned muscle in the glow of a lamp, and his nose found the stink of the street from the close distance he stood from his attacker. It was surely one of the two scoundrels from the pub barely two nights ago. Otis turned fully about and brought his fist into the side of the bandit with great force.

The man of the shades gasped as the strike forced his lungs to give up their breath, and Otis again acted with little hesitation. He struck the man twice upon the wrist with the flat of his sword. The hand of his attacker could not withstand the might of the hand of steel. The robber dropped his meager knife, and it fell upon the floor with a ringing clatter. The sword of Otis quickly pointed its chilled finger at the throat of the disarmed thief as the man himself placed his foot firmly upon the fallen blade.

The sound of louder breathing reached the side of his ears, and from the corner of his eye, Otis spied another man coming upon his left. This second street dweller, he was not sure if it was Uben or Rasadon, held his knife in a rather common manner with the blade pointed at the floor, and Otis gave a slight smile at the sight before tightening his grip on the handle of his weapon. As its opponent neared, the sword flashed and cut the man across the arm, taking a small trace of blood for a prize. As the bandit held his arm, the swordsman quickly returned his sword to its place, beneath the chin of the first man. Otis took half a step to the left before his left hand lunged forward and tightened it fingers around the neck of the second attack.

At once, an uneasy silence fell over the room, save for the breathing of the victor. The two thieves glanced at he who had beaten them with worrisome eyes. The first man glanced fearfully at the finger of the cold, steel judge pointing at his throat, ready to pronounce swift sentence upon him. The second stared at the fleshy noose of a hand coiled around his neck, and with childish fright, he waiting for the deathly clutch to tighten.

In their eyes, Otis could see the clear realization that their lives had brought them here, and such a sight pleased him. He wondered if both had known this sort of fear before. He thought to ask of it, but he said nothing. Otis merely smiled with venomous satisfaction at the vain attempt to do what the baseborn men likely considered justice upon him. He had found little challenge in the minor struggle, yet he found the slight diversion amusing.

"You breathe too loudly," said he. "A blind man could have put a blade in either of you before you could have him at a killing stroke."

"You're lucky you're still breathing at all," the stone-haired man retorted, seemingly ignoring the sharpened tip a mere push away from his throat. "You don't kill a friend and just walk away in one piece."

"And you don't throw someone into a table and walk away either," the robber with mud-colored hair added.

Otis merely snickered in his throat as he removed his hand and his sword from the necks of the two reckless brigands, for they were indeed reckless in their attempt, yet the victor found their nerve amusing. "Oh, but I did, and you'll find it happens more often than you think," said he in poor humor. He snatched up the fallen knife before he took his eyes off of its owner, "If you had wanted to kill me, you should have planned your attack a bit better, although I highly doubt either of you have ever done much in the way of devising a plan in your entire lives. Before we continue, I should like to know which of you is which; we didn't have much time for introductions in the pub."

"Are you out of your head?" the brown-haired robber asked, as though he were just moments ago bludgeoned by a weighty stave rather than asked a question. "Why do you care what our names are when you're going to kill us like you did our friend?"

"If I had wanted to kill you," began Otis, "I would have already had you lying on the floor with a slit on both your necks. It would hardly take much effort for me either; I was trained by one of the greatest swordsman of his country and the worst man I ever knew. But I am not a man of such a simple mind. I learned many lessons under my lord, and I found none of them pleasing. Yet, he knew much, but I suppose it comes from a famed man of war. One such lesson was not to hold to the expected; you expect me to kill you, but I will not. Besides, I would not want to use my strength so crudely. So, please, tell me your names."

The robbers exchanged suspicious glances that most would count as well-warranted. Yet, they could not deny the truth that the swordsman would have likely slain them by now if he was of the mind to do so. At length, the strong-looking man with stone-blue hair spoke first.

"I'm Rasadon," he declared. "My partner is Uben, and we are known as the Knives of Nevassa. Since you asked us, I suppose you're going to tell us your name."

"My name is Otis, and I have no title. As for yours, it is a crude title, but I suppose it's to be expected given your upbringing. I take it that you came here for the dead man, Parzal; such a poor fool. Tell me if you please, where is his body? I had no time to see to it when I left him."

"I don't please, but I suppose I could tell you. We buried him in a cave not far from here. We came here to join him, and there he was: fallen down dead."

Otis nodded with an odd gratification, "I expect that any fool who wanders this part of the country could find his grave."

"Not Parzal's" said Uben. "No one could find him, and we hope no one does. No one will ever find Parzal, the greatest assassin in Daein and our friend." The thief looked to his brother-in-villainy and continued, "This one talks like one of those nobles from Begnion." His fellow nodded and glared at Otis.

"We hate noblemen," spat the robber with heated indignation. "It's the nobles that make us thieves while they sit tall and pretty at their banquet tables, eating like pigs. Where do they think their money comes from? Out of our purses, that's where it comes from. They don't deserve any of it; we do. Let's kill him, Uben," added he, casting another hateful glance at Otis. The man of Crimea kept his pleasured face as he held up the rogue's blade.

"If you can get your knife back, feel free to make the attempt. I can assure you that I am not a nobleman, however. I am a learned man, so if that counts me among the elite, then that's not enough reason to kill me."

"Then we'll kill you without our knives," Uben confidently proclaimed, "and we'll kill you for Parzal, the greatest assassin in Daein and our friend."

"I would name him as the second-greatest dead assassin in Daein," the red-haired rascal replied. "After all I killed him, and since I have, surely you must know I have this." Otis reached for his belt and produced the blade of ebony. Uben and Rasadon stood agape at the sight of their comrade's weapon, as though they had become stone or dead men. The wanderer nodded at their astonishment, and continued, "If you still wish to try, then by all means, do so. You can tell Parzal that you had not the wit to know better. As for your loyalty to him, it is misplaced because he was certainly not your friend."

At once, the words seemed to shake both men from their state of bewilderment, and Uben set his eyes foully upon him and furrowed his brow in barely-caged anger. "You're a liar," exclaimed he. "Parzal was our friend to the end. He broke us out of prison more times than we could count."

"I'm sure he did, considering you probably can't count very high. I am no liar; he told me so just before he died. I told him I had killed both of you, and I tell you he would have danced for joy."

"I think he's right," said Rasadon soberly. "He tried to do us in once, and he would only save us if we threatened to tell the guards about him."

"He can't be right," his fellow foul craftsman shouted, though it sounded very much like bawling. "He just can't be." At the sound of his words, Otis wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"You are not much of a man are you, Uben, if you blubber so, but in any case, we can stand here and bandy foolish words about, or I can tell you what I came to tell you."

"What do you mean?" Rasadon asked with much uncertainty and mistrust.

"I mean I am glad to find you. I had expected you would be here, and I wish to speak with you."

"Why? What could we have that you could want?"

"Why indeed?" Otis commented. "You have nothing that I could ever want, but I have something you might want. I have a proposition for the two of you." The brown-headed robber cocked his head, unsure of what the word meant.

"Don't use such long words; we're just simple thieves."

"Very well, I want to buy you both a drink and discuss a little business."

"You kill the only one we could call friend, even if he wasn't, and you want to talk with us?"

"Either that or I kill you now," Otis answered with a shrug. "If you wish to discuss with me, then come to the pub we met at the night before last after sunset. I'll meet you there."

"What business would you want to discuss with us?" asked Rasadon. "You just said we have nothing you want?"

"Come tonight if you wish to know. I will say no more until then. Now, be off with the both of you; if you don't leave, then I will see to it that you leave this life. A similar fate will await you if you come back. Now, go while I am of the mind to let you." He then threw Rasadon his knife, and both bandits exchanged curious looks at the deed. Neither of them spoke a word as they walked slowly away from Otis and out of the shrine, for they assumed that he would be waiting for them if they should return.

Otis, however, wandered the temple until he came to an old bedchamber that Parzal had no doubt slept in, for it was not in an entire state of disrepair. The rascal walked to the bed and laid himself down upon it until sleep took a firm hold of his body. His mind, however, still danced with the notions of mischief and plot that entertained it and surely to come this drawing night. To this, Otis smiled as he slept.

* * *

><p>It was during the midday respite from the day's work of gathering wood that Ike had brought his fellow mercenaries into their staff room. Despite the cold outside, the heat of the morning toil and the scent of sweat and odor hung about the chamber, and many wished to quickly proceed with the meeting in order to eat. Shinon looked especially cross as he sat beside his brother-in-arms, Gatrie. Ike could not fault him however, for he also felt the ache of the work of dawn and the persistent grumbling in the pit of his belly. Still, he knew that the tidings brought only yesterday would surely mean more than food to the company. He wagered that most men would probably sell their bellies for the gold offered by the crown. Yet, he remained silent for he knew not how best to tell of Marcia's news.<p>

He looked at Titania, whose face still bore the telltale paleness of bed rest, and he wondered if the news would brighten her cheeks as well as her spirit. Shinon only furrowed his brow and set his eyes impatiently before him. Ike wondered if the message would drive the tip of the wedge deeper between them. The cheeky smile of Gatrie did not wish to fade, and Ike was sure it would never abandon him even now, and surely it would continue to accompany the veteran mercenary. The rest of the company, save for one, seemed an arrangement of wonder and curiosity, though Ike knew not what their faces would show when he spoke.

The face of Soren, in sharp comparison to all others, remained as it always had, with an impassive stare that spoke volumes despite the silence of his mouth. His eyes, though aloof and detached, showed that he, too, wondered at the royal tidings. Ike was certain that the thoughts of the wind weaver had devoted themselves to the cold deliberation of what advantage the company could glean from the palace. But surely even a sum as great as the price for the Iron's head would not put so much as a crease of care upon the brow of his staff officer; of that Ike was assured.

"Come on, Ike," Shinon said, at last, unable to bear the load of his own impulsive spirit any longer, "What did Marcia want?"

"Yeah, boss," Mia added rather quickly. "What's the big news? I bet it's a big job."

Ike nodded befor he spoke, "It's a bigger job than most we get, and it will pay more than any we've had as well."

"Then in that case, I hope you keep the money instead of giving it to the first person who holds out their hand," Shinon remarked rather curtly. Ike wondered if he would ever cease to mention the aftermath of the war and his recompense to his employers with the fee they had given him. He doubted the marksman would ever do so. If ever a man kept a greater record of wrongdoings, surely that man was Shinon. Despite the offense, Ike made no sign of a wounded man, and he continued.

"I fully intend to keep the reward, but first I should tell all of you what the payment is for. Do you remember General Boldan?"

The heads of Shinon and Gatrie turned quickly towards Ike; their faces bore the look of the dogs loosened for the chase, eager to begin with no such notions of restraint. The scarlet-haired rider, however, seemed to regard the news poorly. Her green eyes dulled, and her cheeks glowed with a fleeting tint of red that soon faded away, leaving her face a ghostly white. Mist let her mouth fall lifelessly open, unsure if her ears had heard correctly. Rhys looked soberly ahead at the mention of the man of infamous repute. As Ike glanced over the assembled, he marveled at the differing faces, and he began to reconsider the wisdom of mentioning the hated figure.

"Who could forget him?" Oscar asked. "I've heard he could make Ashnard himself sound like a saint. I never met the man, but hearing about him is enough. Besides that, Count Bastian told us over and over to make sure we killed him at Alpea."

"Then he should be dead," Titania stated as warmly as a block of iron.

"Queen Elincia doesn't seem to think he is," said Ike. "At the very least, she wants proof of it, and she is willing to pay twenty-thousand in gold to anyone who can bring him in, dead or alive. I don't have to remind you all that we could use that money. We wouldn't be the only ones out there looking for him; every other mercenary and bounty hunter in the country will be after Boldan. I could have us hunting him right now, but I would rather try to do things the way my father did. If he ever had a big decision to make, he would ask everyone how they stood on it. Tell me what you all think; should we join the hunt?"

Titania looked to her commander, and he could tell she wished to speak first. When he granted her the invitation, it surprised him what words she had upon the tip of her tongue. "We gave the queen our services at Fort Alpea," said she with heated words. "We were told Boldan would be there, and we all knew it. We fought the rebels and put most of them in their graves. I'm glad the business is over. Ike, I don't wish to have any more to do with the man."

Ike and his fellow soldiers-for-hire knew not what to make of the refusal, for they had not previously heard such a tone of voice from the mouth of the secondary commander. The hero of two wars looked upon her with a greater shock than that of his peers. "Why not?" asked he. "What has he done to you? Surely you must have known Boldan, but I've never heard you speak of him, Titania. Tell me, what has he done? If he has done something to you, I would think you would want him dead, just as I did the Black Knight."

"It's the last bit of an old life," the woman answered. "I would not want to talk about it in the open, even among friends. As for the business of finding him, my reasons are my own, but for my sake and yours, let the palace handle him."

"I say let's go get him," Boyd exclaimed with the same exuberance that was expected of him. The moment the last word left his mouth, the middle brother sprang hastily to his feet, and he headed for the door, no doubt to retrieve his trusted axe. Ike, however, would not permit the deed.

"Sit down," he commanded. The warrior stopped dead in his steps, and as he observed all the eyes upon him, he returned to his place with a foolish grin that resembled that of a child caught in the act of disobedience. Ike smiled slightly, for he was glad he could command the obedience of his men. "Thank you. I'm sure I don't have to ask you what you think of this, Shinon."

"We would finally get paid for a job and paid well," the marksman commented. "We haven't done any real mercenary work since we got back, and I'd say we're entitled to that money."

"I agree with him," said Soren, speaking at length. "I hardly think we are entitled to anything, but we are mercenaries first and foremost; as such we must tend to our own interests before the interests of others. And as you said, Ike, every other bounty hunter will be out looking for the general. If we want to ensure that the coin crosses our palms, we must act quickly. I say we should move out immediately."

Titania let out a long sigh before she spoke again, "Is that how Commander Greil would do things? He was a mercenary, but he was not a bounty hunter. He fought, and he killed, but only to defend others. Never once during his life did he hunt for men. Do we want to start down that road, Soren?"

"It doesn't matter what Commander Greil did or what we want to do. Even if we are not bounty hunters in name, we must not waste the opportunity," said the Branded. "Let us go before we waste more time than we need."

Gatrie, as Ike expected, sided with his companion, and many of his fellows did the same. Oscar said he would abide by the decision of his leader, as did Rhys, though Ike pondered the sincerity of the latter, for he knew the healer loathed the battlefield. Mist was uncertain, but Ike knew she would follow him if he should go. Mia seemed as eager as Boyd. The swordswoman spoke with youthful ardor of challenging the Blazing Iron to combat, and Ike gave an inward moan as he thought of her relentless search for the figure she deemed her rival. Titania, however, cautioned of the skill of the distasteful man, stating that he would surely kill her with little effort. When all had spoken, Ike addressed the assembly.

"I'll take a day to consider it," the blue-haired man began. "I can see this won't be an easy choice, no matter what roads I have to take. But in any case, let's have our meal. We have a lot of work left to do, and only a few marks of daylight to do it in." The company then parted for their mess hall. Shortly after, they were again out in the chilled air striking at the trees with their heavy blades, but no blade carried more weight than the one Ike lifted in his thoughts.

* * *

><p>With purpose in his strides, Otis again walked the still streets of Nevassa. He had earlier sold his sword for a meager amount of gold, but he cared not for the small sum of fifteen. Though his sword had gained little, threats had gained him much, twice as much, from the frightened metalworker. For this, Otis was pleased. He had not the foreknowledge to know if the two bandits would join him, but the rascal thought to himself that even if they did not, he had little use for such inferior followers. And so he found himself on the familiar street that he had been thrown upon only days ago. He soon stood before the same pub, the <em>Gilded Maiden<em> by name, that had gleefully expelled him and no doubt had long since forgotten him. He had earlier hidden his face with a stolen cloak. Otis did not think highly of caution, yet the rascal knew well such an method would serve him well for the time being.

The Crimean sliently slipped past the tables to an empty and unnoticed spot in the corner. Sitting down, Otis unveiled his face and let his thoughts turn to ill concocting. Gazing about the customary disorder, scheme after scheme and plot upon plot rose in a single cloud of weighing and measuring. If he should have need to flee, who would likely impede him and who would likely die for their hindrance? If the thieves should turn on him, could he overpower them? Would he rather that they do so or would he rather have them take his side? It was these thoughts that occupied the mind of Otis just as the sounds and smells occupied his senses.

At that moment, much to the surprise of the plotter, Uben and Rasadon came to the table. He had taken no notice of the door and had not seen them, yet such carelessness did not worry him. The pair of robbers sat down, each with soured faces.

"I was starting to wonder if you would even show up," said Otis in an altogether insincere voice.

"I didn't want to," Rasadon growled, "But Uben thought that perhaps we should listen to your proposition."

"It seems he isn't as headless as he looks. Tell me, what would rather have done, Rasadon? I would rather enjoy hearing what course you would have taken."

"I would have rather found a few of my friends and beat you to a bloody mess."

"That's surprisingly savage for a common thief," the Crimean remarked. "It reminds me of a man I once knew, and he would have done just that to any man who crossed him and to some that did not."

"What sort of man is that?" asked Uben, but Otis merely dismissed the question with a wave of his hand.

"All in good time, Uben" he answered. "You will know of him soon enough." The rascal cast a small bag before the hand of Rasadon. "You get the drinks; I'm sure you two would rather talk over a stein of beer."

"Why don't you buy the drinks yourself? This was your idea, and I'm not some barmaid that you can order around?"

"Perhaps not, but I can't show my face at the counter. Now, hurry and go, or you may find yourself worse than a barmaid." The thief scowled at the order and thought to go for his knife. Yet in the knowledge that Otis still carried the dead man's dagger, he thought better of it. He grudgingly snatched the moneybag, and mere moments later, he returned with three steins filled to the brim with foaming brew and the remaining coins. The three roguish men drank and drank until their cups ran dry before Rasadon went to fetch another round of the house's wares, which they gladly partook of. At the urging of their host, the thief returned with yet another. The purchasing bandit set his mug down at length.

"So, what of this proposition of yours?" asked he. "We've gone through two rounds and almost half of a third already, and the barkeep is starting to give me strange looks. So, what do you want with us?"

Otis wiped his mouth with his sleeve before beginning, "I wonder, fellows, as thieves, are you upset by the established order of things?" The men glanced at each other with no understanding of the question. "Do you dislike the way things are done?" added the red-haired man. "You said so yourself, Rasadon, that I reminded you of a nobleman."

"Not anymore you don't, but you still gab like one."

"Quite, but we can argue over words another time. Have either of you ever considered what would your lives be like if you could upset things? As it is, society makes you steal while the fortunate pigs get richer, and for as long as anyone in Tellius knows, that is the way of things. But think for a moment; if you could take that wealth for yourselves, what would your lives be like?"

"You mean you want us to rob the nobles?" asked Uben.

Otis frowned, and his eyes became heated embers at the street man. "Such a simple idea from a simple man. Can you not set your sights a bit higher? I wonder, man, have either of you ever heard of the Blazing Iron?"

"The name doesn't sound familiar," answered Rasadon. "I know the name of every thief and assassin from here to Talrega, but I've never heard of anyone called the Blazing Iron."

"Some would consider you fortunate at having never heard his name, or at least the name he chose. Those who did know him or even of him have often wished they did not."

"From the sound of him, I wouldn't want to met him," said Uben. "He sounds dangerous."

"He sounds like a idiot," Rasadon remarked, with a cross snort.

"Some have thought him a madman, for he was a fell man, indeed," said Otis. He spoke rather casually of the man, and his voice did not quiver or falter at the mention, which struck the two thieves as strange. "He was a man of my homeland; the most brilliant military mind and the most dangerous man Crimea had birthed. As a matter of fact, he was my lord and trainer. He served the nobles, and he was as ruthless as they. Yet, his service was often costly, for he often fought against those he attended, for little reason and not in an expected way. He dealt harshly with the people under his own lords, again for little reason and often on a whim. Now, what do you say to that?"

Both of the fell men exchanged curious looks, as though they knew not what to make of the account. "Are you crazy?" said Rasadon at last. "This Blazing Iron man sounds like he was out of his head, and you don't sound any better."

Otis merely reclined in his chair with an odd smile upon his face, "I am hardly mad, and many have called men such as the Iron crazy. Despite his violent nature, he was not unlike many of the common people. He was a man of great intelligence, and his lessons served me well when I was his ward."

"And what lessons did he teach you?" asked Rasadon with a thunderous clap in his voice that he was only barely able to repress. "I don't think much of this Blazing Iron, so what did you gain from him, and what does it have to gain us?"

"I could impart a lesson of his to you here and now, but I'll stay my hand on it. If you knew him better, you would know that many of his teachings were exceptionally harsh. But there is one, I am sure, you will have much to gain from. He taught me that if you want something, then take it. If you wish to do harm, then do it. If wish for things to change, then find the weakest point of any person or kingdom and attack it. He was never in want of anything, if that interests you."

"He never wanted anything," said Uben in utter shock at the words at length. "Maybe we should meet this Iron, Rasadon."

"In a sense, you have already met him," Otis replied with a nod. "He often found that the weakest point of any wall was at the base. If the base falls, so does the wall. Similarly, the weakest point of any kingdom is in its order. He knew well that order is a fickle and feeble thing. He was merely the first blow, and then the kingdom would fall down on itself."

"What does that mean to us?" Rasadon snapped.

"You thought to do the same thing that he did, although your methods were quite crude. In that sense, you've met the Blazing Iron." Otis lowered his voice as he went on, "You thought to kill your queen, and the death of Micaiah would deliver a large blow to Daein. As a matter of fact, I would think it would topple the kingdom, and yet your only concern is to see her in a tomb."

"Yes, and I said we could hang for it, and we still could. Now, we've sat here long enough, and you haven't told us anything, except about some lunatic. So, just come out with it; what do you want?"

The rascal only scowled at the bandit, and his hand reached for the dagger. "Very well then," Otis began. "If you still want to kill your queen, I can help you do that and much more. I have my own affairs to see to, but I would be willing to aid you. I expect nothing from you, except a small task. If you want to make a change for the country, then gather anyone you know willing to march under me. Thieves, assassins, even the common folk, I don't care. But find as many men as you can, and then bring them to Palmeni Temple the night after tomorrow."

"You want us to raise an army?"

The Crimean nodded, but the Knives merely looked at him unsure of whether to believe him or discount his words as the mere babbling of a fool. At length, Uben continued, "Now, we know you're crazy. We're thieves, and thieves don't work together; maybe you can get two, three or even five but not an army."

"We thought this Blazing Iron story was wild enough," said Rasadon, "I said you didn't sound any better, but you really have him beat if this man really existed."

"I would think that you two would be fools among fools if you couldn't even see the sense in raising an army," Otis replied. "For one thing, you are only two men, and two men alone can't outmatch an entire keep anymore than they could move a mountain. Oh, you can chip away at it, but you won't bring it down. But an army can level a mountain."

"If you want to convince us," Uben hastily interjected, "then stop using your little pictures and just tell us what you're talking about."

"You two must surely be fools if you don't even understand. If you want your queen, you'll need more than just two or three men. But if that does not convince you, then perhaps this will," added Otis holding up the black blade. "I have no intention of letting you live unless you agree. Another thing you should learn from the Iron, for he truly did exist, is that men are entirely dispensable, unless one has use for them. So, I would recommend that you make yourselves useful to me. Now, Knives, are you with me or against me?" The rascal causally flicked the tip of his weapon at the two men as he spoke the last word.

Uben and Rasadon both gave a nervous swallow as they realized that their host did not hold any notion of jest in his voice. At once, the solid defiant wall in their eyes crumbled and gave way in sheer submission to the man who held their lives at the point of a dagger. The bandits rose, unsteady on their feet, and Rasadon looked uneasily at the door.

"I suppose we should get going then," said he. "We have a lot of people to find."

"You have made the right choice, but don't try anything. I know what you look like, and I could easily find you or send someone after you. You recall how well I fought you earlier today. I would caution you to keep that in mind."

The sound of angered footsteps thumped in the ears of the men as the barkeep neared their table. At the sight of Otis, the man furrowed his brow, and a fist tightened and shook at the Crimean wanderer. He glanced with equal ire at the two men, for though he was no stranger to the distasteful ilk of men coming in off the streets, he did not enjoy their company.

"I thought I told you never to come back again," he shouted at the red-haired figure, who sat with casual indifference at the tone of voice. "You men of Elincia's border don't seem to listen very well."

"I am not of Elincia's land nor any land for that matter. I would have thought you would have remembered that from our last meeting."

"You're quite arrogant for a common vagabond, and I will not be spoken to in my own place. Now, be on your way!"

"I will leave when I see fit."

The barkeep gave an angry snort at the insolence shown to him."I will not repeat myself. Now, get out!" the man shouted.

"I will leave when I see fit," Otis said again, unwilling to move.

"I said get out! I have half a mind to have you arrested. I have the other half to beat your head in. I used to fight men in the arenas before they were closed. I never lost. But leave now, and I'll think no more of it."

"I would not make such threats to a man such as me. I could lay you on the ground with little trouble on my part. And if you threaten my head, I could kill you before you landed a blow. Take this to heart, man. I did kill the last man who threatened me, and I thought little of it."

The barkeep said nothing, but from where he sat, Otis could see his hand tighten into a fist and his face filled with hot rage, like a sudden flame from a forge.

"Then perhaps I should push the crown to have you hanged," said he. "You will surely pay for your threats and if I have anything to say about it, I'll either see you with a rope around your neck or in irons for the rest of your life. But rest assured, you loose-lipped fool, you will pay."

The host of the _Maiden_ turned to leave, no doubt to fetch the city watch, but he took no more than three steps when Otis sprang like an wild cat upon its prey and drew the black dagger across the man's shoulder. The stroke was clean, small and hardly fatal, yet the man fell upon his face; dead before he struck the ground. As the other patrons looked up from their beers, ales, and chance games, a cloak of fear fell over the pub as they looked from the dead man to his attacker, still standing like the serpent before his venomous strike. The two robbers quickly fled in nearly blind fear, but Otis, however, paid no heed to the glances of worry and bewilderment given to him.

With a careless look, he stepped over the body. Looking back, he added to the ears forever deafened, "Now, I see fit to leave." Deafening himself to the cries of 'murderer' behind him, the Crimean departed into the welcomed darkness. "Oh, you would be proud of what I have done, my lord. One day, you shall know of all of it." He added before vanishing into the side streets of the city and back to the steps of Palmeni.

* * *

><p>At the breaking of the dawn, Ike called his company to his father's staff room. He stood in silent observance, watching them one-by-one enter and take a seat. As he did so, the soldier-for-hire began to waver in his decision, and he considered simply bringing an end to this assembly. The thought did not endure his contemplation for long when he realized such an action would only infuriate and agitate his men, especially the irritable marksman who sat but a few chairs away from where Ike stood. When Titania passed him, Ike again wondered what thing, what deed or word, what interaction had she shared with the wanted man.<p>

He knew so little of her life. Had she wedded him? Had she once called him kin? Had they shared the bond of arms so deeply that his betrayal had shattered her? Ike knew not, and he was certain that not even his father knew, dear as the scarlet rider was to Greil. In any case, Ike wished to know, for such knowledge, he thought, could ease what he had determined to do. A slow murmuring reached his ears, and Ike held up a hand to quiet the chatter before he spoke.

"I've thought about it all night," he began. "I think my father would do what needs to be done for the company, and so I have decided that we will join in the hunt for Boldan."

It did not take long for words to spew forth from the table as water from a fractured dam. Some offered nods or comments of assent, while Shinon sounded rather mocking. Soren voiced his firm support for the mortal quest. Boyd again rose too eagerly for the liking of his leader, and in doing so, the horn-shouldered caused his seat to tip and fall. Mia likewise shared in the springtime exuberance. But when Ike caught sight of Mist, it seemed as though her face carried the look of autumn trees; surrendering to the will of another yet sad to do so. And then the paled face of his deputy resembled the chill of the winter air, and it saddened him to see such a face.

"I doubt your father would do this, Ike," said Titania.

"He would do something if it meant helping the company," the son of Greil replied.

"Yes, but he would not think of trading a man's life for gold."

The Branded merely folded his arms. Though his face showed no trace of emotion, his red eyes told more than his brow or mouth ever did. His silence spoke volumes of restrained disatisfaction with the methods of their dead leader. His voice seemed to chill the air far more than the voice of winter as he spoke again, "Perhaps he should have learned to do just that. As much as I respected the commander, he seemed to forget that we lived by the coin."

"If Commander Greil lived solely for gold," she said. "We would still be under the rule of Daein because he would have handed Elincia over to them."

"If we are paid, we must take a job, no matter if we approve of it or not; that is the way of it for mercenaries." For the first moment since they had known her, Titania openly scoffed at the words of Ike and his staff officer.

"I have followed you everywhere, Ike, and I have loved you as if you were my own son," she began. "But this time, I will not follow your lead. If you wish to bring Boldan's head before Elincia's throne, then I won't stop you. You are your own man. But you will have to manage it without me."

"Then let me finish," said Ike. "I thought you would want to stay behind, and so I thought I would have Mist stay with you. I have no doubt Boldan is deadly in battle. If we meet him alive, I would rather have someone live in my place." His sibling rose and silently pattered to the side of her second mother. "Since you'll both be staying," Ike continued, "We won't set out right away. We'll spend today and likely most of tomorrow gathering more wood for the bins since there is still room in them. On the third day, we'll set out."

"Are you out of your head?" Shinon asked quite irately. "By the time we set out, someone else will be spending the bounty. Mist and Titania are big enough; let them handle the woodbins themselves."

Ike furrowed his brow and glared at the archer. "I have a mind to make you stay behind with them for that. Mist couldn't lift an axe. Her sword his heavy enough for her arms, though she is skilled with it. As for Titania, I don't want to end up burying her, and if she spends time outside, I may very well have to. We're all lucky to still have her."

"We're just wasting time, you stupid pup."

"Maybe so, but that's my word on it. Now, let's eat up and get out there or you will end up being right about someone else spending the reward, Shinon."

And so again the company worked to harvest from the forest. Over the remaining marks of daylight, Ike kept his eyes upon Shinon and Gatrie as well. He watched the two men as they labored at each others' side, and he was sure they conversed about some foolish mischief. The hero of two wars regarded them with little faith, for he knew the bowman far too well. The naivety of the man in iron, he knew too well. Gatrie's unlearned manner was as strong as his breastplate, as was the loyalty to his friend. Ike was certain that they intended to act first and break ties with the troop once again. He paid this little thought, however.

To the son of Greil, if the two made any attempt and met some ill fortune along the way, it would serve as a good lesson to the both of them. With another stroke of his heavy blade, Ike smiled at the thought of either of them learning such a harsh example. "I'm sure they will not get far from here before finding trouble," said he quietly. "Even if they know the land, if I know Shinon, gold will get him lost and Gatrie along with him. But it will serve them both right."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I'm not really happy with this chapter, especially the pub scene. I had tried rewording it, but I couldn't find anything that really satisfied me. But I hope you liked it. I also hope that you find this length better. I found that the original chapter worked better as two chapters, so that's why it's shorter, and hopefully that means a shorter time before the next update.

I promise Lucia will return in the next chapter.

A big shout-out goes to all of you readers, and of course to HaveAHeart0301, my beta. I couldn't do this without you.


	4. Chapter VI: Uncertainties

**A/N: **Happy Easter everyone. Ok, so it's not Easter anyomore, but it's not that far back either. Sorry for the long wait. This one took a while to do, but most of these chapters do that. Hope you find it was worth it.

Everything you recognize belongs to someone else. Everything you don't belongs to me.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter IV: Uncertainties<strong>

Alone, as she had done so day after day, Lucia sat in her quarters, uncertain of what she should do. For two days since the royal assembly, she had made effort upon effort to hide herself away from her queen, but she knew well that she could not. In what place could one hide from a ruler in her own house? That was the question the daughter of Delbray had asked of herself and found no answer. In many ways, she found it quite similar to the questions she asked of the faces in the gathered darkness that she saw with horror night after night. The swordswoman wondered why after seven months since the uprising of Felirae, the embers of the rebellion returned to burn her soul as they had burned her forearm.

The war with Begnion had not scarred her, though it had once wounded her in body. Why then, she wondered, did this minor skirmish do to her what the greatest of conflicts could not?

"If only I could finish that book," Lucia said aloud, grateful for the silence in the air about her, for the air told no secrets despite hearing many. "I am sure it could tell why this is happening to me now of all times."

She knew well that she spoke in folly, for the magician who penned the tome was regarded by many as a man of thoughts too deep for the use of the kingdom. Furthermore, the author had spent a great deal of his declining life in the writing of such a tome. She doubted that she could not have finished such a laborious volume this day or for many days. Why, she could not have even brought it to her room in secrecy.

The sister of the queen rose from her place and began to walk her floor with repeated steps back and forth. Her thoughts weighed heavily upon her mind, and she could not bear to remain still another moment. She counted herself as stronger than a mere dream, yet this was a dream unlike any she could recall or desired to recall. More than this, Lucia knew that she should stand elsewhere on this day. Earlier that morn, the queen herself had come to her, and the lady had not yet risen from her bed. Elincia spoke gently then of her place that coming midday.

The royal knights would soon arrive, this the lady knew, and with them one of the most perilous allies of the traitor of Felirae, though he was unquestionably not the worst of them. Such a title, Lucia and her countrymen reserved for Boldan alone. Still, the former count of Pinell was a fearful man. Lucia held few things in fear or alarm, yet this one man, this single master of the art of magic could rightly do so. For certain, the rebels would find an ample opportunity to free him and regain a mighty arm. As such, the call was given for the entire house to stand armed and ready at the side of the queen. As her milk-sister, the tireless protector of the house knew well that she must guard her.

"How can I do this?" Lucia asked in her relentless and fearful pacing. "How can I protect Elincia if I cannot even bring myself to stand in front of her? How can I watch over her if I cannot even keep those faces, faces that aren't even there, from appearing? Maybe I should have told her I was too ill to get up today." At once the thought pricked her mind, for she had said many such falsehoods these passed days. Yet, it was not entirely untrue to the azure-haired woman. Indeed she felt unwell.

On one set of restless steps, the lady caught a glimpse of her desk resting resolutely as it always had just to the right of her bed against the wall. From where she stood, Lucia could spy an open book. It was rather small when compared to the voluminous works in the royal archive. For a reason she could not discern, Lucia found herself drawing nearer to the desk.

When she reached it, the woman ran her hand over the surface. She smiled at the touch of the smooth and polished wood under her hardened and battle-worn palm, for a thousand sights, sounds, and smells trailed in the wake of her hand. Each one brought back some fond memories of her girlhood. She recalled the royal villa, and how her father had built this desk for her when she was yet an impish child. Despite the warnings of her father and her mother, she and her brother had played around it, letting their thoughts take them far away from Crimea. Oh, how she treasured the desk, for in it, she thought she might feel the warmth of her father's loving caress.

Upon the desk, Lucia looked upon the open book, though she needed not. She knew well what the small book, bound in simple brown, contained. It was another gift from her father when she had turned the age of thirteen for her to record her thoughts, hopes, and cares in its pages, and she had done so with gladness those nine years since.

The lady of Delbray idly let her eyes roam the open page, caring little for the words she had written upon it. She rather preferred losing all thought of time and duty and worry to recall those happier days, and she needed not to read in order to do so. Near the center of the book, she found a curious thing; at least many would find it so for a woman such as she. It was a rose, preserved within the pages of her diary. Lucia had hoped to read herself to sleep the previous night, and by chance she had left the journal open upon this place. She had not succeeded in her effort; if anything, she had wearied her eyes, but her thoughts continued their fearful races.

Lucia gently retrieved the flower from its resting place. Holding it to her nose, she thought the fragrance of the blossom still lingered among its hardened petals. Since the retaking of her homeland, she had made a point of taking one rose from a bush in order that she might preserve it as a keepsake for the year. As she inhaled, she recalled how she had loved the gardens of the castle. She enjoyed them as much as Elincia. At the royal villa, she had always found the occasion to venture outside, and so the garden seemed preferable to the lady. The swordswoman remembered how it looked just after the end of the Mad King's War, with the silver and black dead strewn here and there and the green grass and gray stones painted red by the blood of friend and foe alike. It was a sad sight to behold after that day, but the years had erased the ill vista.

The queen's sister placed the flower back in its bed, and as she closed the book, she found herself in the company of a rather comforting notion. She had seen men fall and die that day. She had lived for one year in hiding from the soldiers and riders in black, and through all of it, she had seen her homeland renewed. Lucia found herself reciting the verse that Crimea had seen fit to adopt.

"No matter how harsh the winter, spring will ever follow," she whispered to the air.

At once the tapping of a hand against her door caused Lucia to leap slightly. The knocking came again, and a voice, no doubt the voice of one of the queen's attendants, sounded on the other side.

"Lady Lucia," came the muffled voice of a man. It was surely a palace guard, the lady reasoned, for the attendants of Elincia were women. "Lady Lucia," he called again. "Are you well?"

"Well enough, sir," she called out.

"Are you decent?"

"No, I am not yet." In truth, she was, but she did not wish him to enter. She had only to retrieve her gloves from where she had laid them upon her bed, but otherwise she was indeed dressed. Once more, the lady hated the lie, yet she seemed to grow more and more accustomed to such deeds. Still, she wondered if this repeating game of distrust would continue as the old palace game of mock battle was known to do. "What is it that you want?" the lady asked.

"Her Majesty sent me to fetch you. The royal knights will soon arrive."

"What is the time?" Lucia asked, wondering how long she had idled in her quarters.

"Not yet midday, my lady," said the guard."What shall I tell the queen?"

"Tell her I will join her directly."

"If you are not well, I can station other guards at the front gate. I can also send for one of the healers." A soft moan resounded in the swordswoman's throat as she rolled her eyes. She knew not the name of the guard standing at her door, but enough she knew to know he was a man who did not put an end to such meaningless blather. Lucia missed the days when the palace watch would simply leave after one such as she had given the word. She wondered if the man had gone when she heard no sound, but the call soon announced the presence of its owner yet again. "My lady, are you all right?" he said with a great deal of distress at her silence.

"I am fine," Lucia replied with restrained indignation struggling to loosen through her voice. Could he not hear what was spoken through the silence? Could he not hear that she wished for even a moment? The woman took three strides towards the door and called to he who waited on the other side. "I shall come down directly, and now I ask, no command, you to return to your post. You wait on me when it is the queen that needs you. Now, go." Her voice carried harsher sounds than she had intended, although Lucia was hardly sorry for it. She had spoken rightly; at least she believed it so. Where else was the place of a guard but by the side of his sovereign?

"As you wish, my lady," the voice said with a rather unnerved tone. "Please excuse me."

Lucia pressed her ear to the door and smiled as she heard the sound of retreating footfalls. When she was certain the man had gone a sufficient distance, the woman returned to gaze upon her rose lying in its paper cradle. She partially wondered what thoughts the watcher was holding on his way back to his place. Perhaps he thought she was in the company of a man, although she very much doubted that. Yet with how she had dismissed him, the worn advisor thought she may as well have been, for one shame was not unlike another.

She rather envied the wine-colored plant before her eyes. What cares or concerns did a growing thing ever hold to, save for a lack of water? But Lucia quickly put forth her efforts to remove such foolish thoughts. She had acted as such a child these previous days, and it was little wonder that the peers and the lesser ones took notice. Again, she repeated the proverb spoken only moments ago. At length, Lucia snatched her gloves from where they laid, dressed her arms, and then she went to retrieve her sword. Tying the scabbard to her belt, she hurried to the door.

"I will do as I have always done," the lady declared with all the purpose and authority of a woman far above her station. "I bear my wounds in battle with no weeping and no cowering. After all, if the sword doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger. Why should I treat any other wound differently?"

And then she left.

* * *

><p>Lucia strode proudly down the halls along the way to the castle gates. Though none had seen her, she had hoped a familiar, a comrade, or anyone she knew well would have, if only to, at last, dispel whatever dismal clouds hung over their eyes regarding her conduct of late. The woman went about her way, with her thoughts speaking, in endless repetition, the resolution she had made. She would not fall prey to these troubles of the weaker constitution. Still, with each recitation, Lucia wondered if it was truly as simple as this. Could this resolution relieve her or would it only stave off the relentless ghosts that had haunted her?<p>

Shaking her head and shedding the unanswerable question, Lucia stepped into the courtyard where the companies of the watch had already assembled. In line upon line and row upon row, men in shining silver stood at the ready with lances held high. Amid her soldiers, Queen Elincia stood with Geoffrey at her side. The swordswoman quickly approached them. As she walked by the fighting forces, Lucia glanced at the faces, noting the looks of hardened duty upon them, yet also with the same love for their country that bound them to their posts; the same love that the lady herself held. Surely these men would not give into fear as she had done in the night.

When the queen saw her sister nearing, she smiled. "I thought you might have been ill," said Elincia softly into her sister's ear as she stood beside her.

"I am perfectly well, Your Majesty," answered Lucia just as quietly.

"I wish to speak with you about what happened in the library the other day, but we'll discuss it later."

"You have no need to bring that up, with all due respect. It was nothing to concern yourself with."

"I would still rather know, but as I said, Lucia, we will discuss it later."

At once, Lucia felt her heart sink far deeper than she thought possible. Her thoughts turned to the bottle and what her queen might say if she knew of it. It was not as though she had carried on as others had done. She had only drank a small amount, and it was hardly enough for concern. But oh how she dreaded the thought of Elincia learning of even a small transgression.

"To arms," a watchman cried from the balcony, "To arms. Ready yourselves; the royal knights are here!" In one instant, each man stood erect and tightened their hands upon their weapons. Lucia likewise took a firm grip of her sword and prepared to draw it as the gates of the castle opened and the clopping of approaching hooves sounded through the courtyard. Kieran entered, sitting tall and proud in the saddle. He looked far too proud, and Lucia herself had to lightly giggle as she saw him.

She recalled how his fellow men chattered that his body would never manage his conceit. She also knew that her brother would have enjoyed planting his deputy-commander's feet firmly on the ground. Of course, she doubted that Geoffrey could do any great thing to him, for Kieran was quite able to humble himself in his immense and unquenchable zeal.

The deputy-commander approached Elincia with overly-purposeful steps. Lucia could not resist the urge to scoff at the knighted fool. Kieran dropped to one knee and took the queen by the hand. The queen made a considerable effort to avoid blushing as he placed a light kiss upon her.

"The reputation of your knights increases, Your Majesty," said he, quite closer to shouting than talking. "The rebels shuddered in fear at the sight of us, for they all but threw down their weapons as they faced us." He stood straight and nodded to Lucia and then to Geoffrey. "A thousand men could not have bested us," he continued.

"You would make an amazing writer for your ability to exaggerate," said Geoffrey. "As I recall, we fought the rebels for four days before we drove them to the mountains and another four before they threw down their weapons. As for you, you fell off your horse on the fifth day and landed on the flat of your back."

Lucia fought against a second laugh, for it would not bode well with her fellows if she were to find such a thing amusing. Still, she rather enjoyed finding even some small thing to laugh at. Certainly, the sight of a man as proud and thickheaded as Kieran falling off of his own mount would strike anyone who knew him as humorous. Lucia also thought to herself that if he could fall and strike a single place and remain unharmed, it would surely be his head.

The knight in red appeared dumbstruck at the account of his superior, but to those who knew him best, his silence would not endure just as a thatched barn would not endure against the flames. Already, it seemed to those present that he was concocting some reply, some quick answer, if only to save his own pride. "Yes, it is true," he proclaimed with only a slight trace of humility, though any such tone would surprise Lucia, "I did, but I have endured all hardships of the mountains and the battlefield. And, most esteemed General Geoffrey, I have done so with the training you have given me."

"I am just glad of your safe return, my lord Kieran," Queen Elincia replied. "I have sent my condolences to more families than I care to recall, on both sides of this pointless conflict. I doubt I could send another without bringing myself to tears."

"Fear not, my queen, for I will not be brought down by some mere magician and his fledgling soldiers!"

Lucia opened her mouth to remark upon his laughable declaration, yet before she could utter a word, two somber gray horses led by two equally somber men drew near to the queen. The two animals dragged a stretcher behind them, and upon the mat was laid the wounded knight, Astrid. The queen bade the horsemen to halt, so that she might look upon the injured. Elincia's face paled as she stepped with fervor to her side. Lucia followed, and though she had seen many wounds, she likewise felt color drain from her face at the sight before her eyes.

The men had stripped away Astrid's armor, leaving the knight clad in a loose tunic covered in sopped blood. Elincia gingerly lifted the garment, and she and Lucia saw bleeding bandages wrapped tightly around the woman's side and belly. Her leg was bound to two lances that served as a crude splint. Her eyes were closed, yet her head thrashed about in a violent fit. Sweat glistened upon her brow, and Lucia knew the traces of fever in her cheeks, no doubt from a wound filled by corruption.

"How did this happen?" Queen Elincia asked one of the men who had brought Astrid. "I knew she was wounded from Geoffrey, but I did not expect this."

"We were in the thick of battle, Your Majesty," the soldier began. We had pursued Okale and his warriors to the mountains, but they arrived ahead of us. They caught us off guard in the rises. We drove them upwards towards the higher ground, but they retaliated. We held them, and Astrid must have caught sight of the count, because she rode away from the company."

"I will speak from here," said Geoffrey. "I ordered Makalov to watch her. She had not seen Count Okale, Your Majesty, but a trick of his. How I wish he wasn't so partial to his illusions. If not, we would not have had this little hunt. Forgive my rambling, my queen. That fool could not even protect her for a moment, and the real Okale attacked her. The horse threw her, no doubt frightened by some spell. Astrid landed belly-first on the rocks, and then the horse fell on her."

"You did not have healers?"

"None, Your Majesty," the general said with a shake of his head. "Forgive me for not speaking of it earlier. When I had received your summons, I did not think I should elaborate on the battle. We had a few balms and bandages, but no healing craft we had or knew could heal a broken bone nor prevent infection."

"Then get her inside; we've wasted enough time as it is," Elincia commanded. At once, a few of the soldiers hurried to act. Lucia watched as they loosened the stretcher and quickly bore Astrid up and into the house to the charge of the healers. How often had she seen this thing and paid no mind to the doings of it? Lucia wondered if Astrid might be healed or if her wounds carried too great an illness. In some way, the lady found herself kin to the knight, though she was certain her own wounds would do no more. The queen returned to her previous place, and Lucia followed when the doors of the palace were shut.

"He comes, Your Majesty," the watchman cried out, though he spoke with a waver in his voice. "The prisoner comes."

Lucia reached for her sword and took a firm hold upon the handle. Slowly, she crept nearer to the queen to put concerned lips to her ears; lips that could keep no bar upon their solemn advice, and surely this was the time for such guidance. "Do not allow him to speak, my queen," the lady whispered to her milk sister. "Who knows what spell he may put on us if he does." Elincia could give no reply but a slow nod.

A deathly hush fell across the courtyard, as though the sharpened and stinging talons of the winter air had pierced all those who stood at their posts through to their very souls. It was cold, so cold, even to Lucia as she stood at her place, though the chill hardly felt as the natural bite of the wind. Indeed, it felt as though the Dark Angel now hovered about the air with her scythe at the ready for the reaping. Not a word, not a sound, not a single thought was said or felt by any guard or soldier. Even Kieran, prone to loud voices, grew quiet for the coming procession. Lucia glanced about to see her fellow men with subtle yet certain looks of fear and alarm. A few appeared even fearful to take a single breath. The silence was truly deathly.

The rattling of chains echoed through the garden just then, breaking the maddening stillness as if it were but mere glass, though it hardly brought warmth to those gathered in this place. Three men entered through the gates, two soldiers and the third dressed in noble clothes woven of black thread but also the brown shades of the earth where he had slept. This final man stood shackled to his forceful escorts.

Behind the three, a lone man with a wooden box in hand followed at a safe distance. Not a man dared to speak or even look at the prisoner as he was walked, and at times dragged, to the feet of the waiting queen. When at length they reached her, one of the soldiers, Rolan by name, bowed only his head. "My queen," he said, sounding quite official as was his way, "we bring you Okale, son of Opalale and the former Count of Pinell."

Behind such formality, Lucia thought the hushed tone of uncertainty echoed through his voice, and she understood well their concerns over this man. She had not known the magician well, despite his many visits to the court, yet it mattered not, for Count Okale was renowned throughout the nation, though his prominence was given over to his infamy, much like that of Boldan. In appearance, he was a lean man, yet not a sickly fellow. Two amber eyes fixed themselves upon his monarch. From his head, a series of rich green, yet filthy, locks each of random lengths spilled forth, and his brow was large in size for he was a well learned man, far beyond the reach of many. The pursuits of knowledge were his only love; indeed, he had remained unmarried, preferring the company of scrolls and tomes over the company of women. Thus his only heir was born of a distant relative, and so it came to the surprise of no one that Count Gallabar very little resembled his predecessor.

Often had Okale come to Melior in the better days before and after the Mad King's War to take up many an art of grand esteem, and he had mastered them all. The true art of the count, however, was the art of magic. Both he and Count Bastian, often were instructor and pupil to the other on several occasions. At the age of twenty and nine, he had surpassed the Count of Fayre, which had caused many to shudder at the thought. Though his talents were many and his learning vast, Okale was a man prone to greed, not of gold or lands but for greater pursuits of knowledge and the accompanying renown. In these matters, he was a squeezing, clutching, grasping man who longed for more and more.

To the knowing of Lucia, he had never once made the attempt to check such an unbridled avarice. And so he had once gone to Begnion for five long years to learn of the elder arts of Crimea's motherland. When he returned again to his own land, his hunger was not yet satisfied. In an act of utter and unveiled vanity, he had claimed that he would learn to make men deathless, and many had scoffed and scorned him, including his former master, who wished no longer to abide him.

While Okale had not achieved this haughty endeavor, his dealings for the pure essence, the very kindling of his arts, had forged him three tomes, just as they had brought him numerous marks upon his body. These tomes were called _Furiavi_, the tome of madness, _Effigies_, the tome of illusion, and finally _Proserpina_, a tome that none had seen used or knew its use, but only heard of. A bitter shiver had fallen on many, even Lucia herself, when it was made known that the magician had thrown in his lot with Ludveck, for it was said that Okale could drive men to madness with but a few words from his book.

It was a claim one would surely question had they not known the truth of it. Upon the revelation of his treason, the knights had hurried to seize the count's estate. The man had gone, but worse things had they found in his wake; men and women driven into the darkened pits of lunacy with no hope of escape, and no doubt placed in such states as testaments concerning the reach of Okale's power. When this act became known, a new name arose among the nobles and common men alike. They dubbed Okale the Black Count, for surely it was the very color of his heart. His name no longer carried his noble and lofty interests upon mention. No, his name now brought forth images of pained screams and mindless babbling from the mouths of his own people. He was now a man such as Boldan; named only by a hated title.

It seemed as cruel irony to Lucia that a man with such vast knowledge should stand fettered in iron before her, unable to use such learning to loosen mere metal. As she pondered it, the lady felt a strange fire within her belly, and she could not keep the flames from molding into speech. "Of what value are your labors now, count?" she asked. "Your silly words will not help you now."

"Will they not, my lady?" Okale hissed. "You should learn to appreciate the arts of magic more, and if not for these chains, I should like to teach you to appreciate my words."

"Bind his mouth!" Elincia commanded. "I will not allow him to speak again." Rolan produced a worn cloth, no doubt one to wipe his own sweat upon, and turned towards the count as best he could, but it was close enough to stop up his mouth.

"If you fear my words, then you need not," Okale uttered quickly as the soldier prepared to carry out his queen's command. "What words could I speak without any of my tomes?"

"He speaks the truth, Your Majesty," Rolan said, turning back to face the queen. He stuffed the cloth back into his breastplate before he beckoned to their follower. As the man approached, he continued his formal address. "When we captured this mongrel, we also captured one of his tomes. We believe it is one of the three. The only other tome we found with him was one of fire and one well worn I might also add. We tried to force the location of his remaining books, but he would say nothing."

The book bearer presented his small box to Elincia's waiting arms. When she had opened it, Lucia peered over the shoulder of her milk-sister. Though she held no interest in magic, she found it a strangely curious affair concerning the books of the Black Count, and often did she wonder which of his works would find their way into the halls of knowledge. Elincia took the book in her hands and examined its deep violet binding with all intent. Upon its cover was a symbol of black within a gold border. It looked as two circles, one larger and a deeper shade of black, connected to the smaller and duller circle by a single line. The queen and the lady at once knew the design, for on one such occasion before the rise of the Traitor of Felirae, Okale had presented this tome to the royal house.

"_Effigies,_" the two women said together before returning it to its bearer.

"Yes, yes," the Black Count replied. As he continued, his voice seemed to change from a noble tone to an altogether insolent voice. "The second and also the least of my works. Tell me, queen of straw, what do you intend to do with it? Will you create your own shades to pry into the houses of every mother's son you suspect?"

"Strike him for that," Lucia commanded, unable to abide such foul words towards her queen. At the instant, Rolan swiftly slapped Okale upon the mouth.

"You will learn to hold your tongue, prisoner," the soldier scolded harshly. To the surprise of many, a thick language of the countryside came from his mouth rather than the formal voice he had spoken with mere moments ago, though some knew it to be so when he was provoked to wrath."Talk to the queen like that again, and I'll be sure to knock your front teeth out."

"That will do, my lord Rolan," said Elincia. "Before you do anything of the sort, there are things I wish to know." Count Okale merely smiled, though it seemed odd that he should do so.

"If you wish to know where I have hidden the last of the three, I will tell you nothing," he declared proudly. Lucia lightly shook her head and sighed at the words, for despite his days spent in even less-than-humble places, his vanity was not yet breached. "I shall say that they are hidden, but you will hear nothing else. If I die today and it is certain that I will, then I wish for my works, my labors, and my knowledge to live on."

"You seem so certain, count," the queen replied. "Are you now able to divine the future?"

"One does not need to ask of the future if one has only to observe the present and see it for himself. Your soldiers have made it clear that I will indeed die this day, if not for waving the banner of Felirae but for the so-called crimes I have committed against my own people."

"I wanted to kill him myself, Your Majesty," Rolan announced returning to the voice of formality, "I admit it, I would have liked to. Some of my friends served this plague rat; men I grew up with when I was a lad myself. They served him well, and he had them howling mad later. But you wanted him brought to you first, so here he is. So, please, Your Majesty, let us have at it here and now."

"All in good time, sir," answered Elincia. "His crimes are many, but he has only a single offense for which he will answer to me. As for you, Count Okale, you surely must know the laws of our kingdom to know what I must have done with you; a traitor. While you yourself correctly passed judgment a moment ago, your future may not be so certain. Tell me this; how close were you to Ludveck?"

"I should like to know why you would ask that of me , but I was close enough, I suppose. I was not ordered to march with him; that was Calihem's lot. I was to wait for news of the battle and then either flee if the news should be ill or march on Melior if the news should be good. But again why do you care? Why should you and your sheep care for it at all?" he added, casting a malicious glance at Lucia. The lady opened her mouth if only to order the offender struck again, but the queen spoke first.

"I am offering you your life, Okale, just as I have offered the same to your master. Make no mistake, Black Count, your crimes are enough to see, at least, two men under judgment. However, if you can tell me what I wish to know, then I can promise you better. Now," added she with a slow calmness like that of a gentle brook. "Do you know of General Boldan and where he may be found?"

At this, Lucia bade upon the arm of her milk-sister. Pulling upon the queen, they moved but a few steps back. "Is it necessary to interrogate him, Elincia?" the swordswoman whispered. "If he knows, he will not say, and if he doesn't know, then he will do the same. He already realizes that he has no better lot, my queen. I know you well enough to know that have no intention to make a free man of him, and for that matter, I am sure he knows it as well. If he doesn't go to his grave, he will go to prison."

"If it leads to Boldan's death or capture, I would go before Ashnard himself if he stood before me. You are right, Lucia, but I would rather see where this stream will flow before I have it stopped up." Lucia said no more, and again, Elincia put the question to the fettered man. "Where is Boldan?"

The count, however, answered not. Lucia spied him from where she stood. He seemed to peer past Elincia to stare at her, though Lucia knew not why. His eyes became as amber coals as they met with the blue eyes of she who strangely held his attention. The lady suddenly felt a cold bead of sweat form upon her brow as she stared back, unsure of why she did so. The count's eyes seemed to grow in heat, burning with a fire that held not even a trace of warmth. She wondered why he gazed at her or why she troubled herself to stare back.

Lucia felt as though each face, each horrid face, that had haunted her sleep stared through the eyes of the prisoner. Though he was bound, she wondered if he might break free just then and work some terrible enchantment upon her, if only to strike a blow against his captor.

"You are troubled, Lucia the sheep," said Okale with a strange smile. Lucia felt a twinge of fear sending a bitter shiver through her back. She had no care for the insult, yet she wondered if, by his craft, he could see beyond the dishonest face.

"I am not," Lucia replied with a slight stammer, hoping to offer herself some brief reassurance.

"Oh, but you are. I can see it. I see it as clearly as I see this mob around me."

"Silence," the queen commanded. "You will show a greater respect for Lucia, if not as my bodyguard then as a member of court; a status you have seen proper to forfeit, Count. Since you have given me no answer, I must only guess that you do not know anything about the Iron."

"It's true, I do not," the prisoner replied. "It must be a poor reason for you to give the order to keep me alive when I am of no other use to you, but surely you must have another reason to keep me alive. You must have known that I would not know of Boldan. Only Ludveck himself would know where he lives or where he fell. At the very least you would suspect that, but pray tell, what other reason did you have to spare me even for a moment?"

"If only you hadn't fallen so far," said Elincia. "You are indeed wise, and you would have made a fine adviser to me."

"Or a fine spy," Geoffrey spat. "Was it knowledge that brought you to Melior or perhaps the purse strings of your cohort?"

"Shall I answer another sheep? No, I say, _akab._" To hear the words of the ancient tongue was of no great shock, for it was also the tongue of his arts. The crowd exchanged uncertain glances, wondering what the meaning of the word meant, but most thought it was certainly an offense.

"If you will not answer my sheep, as you have called them, then answer the shepherd," Elincia said. By the tone of her voice, she was well-wearied by this senseless exchange. "What prompted you to cast your lot with Felirae? Did I ever deny you my archives? Did I deny you your lands? Or perhaps did I deny you security as Ludveck claimed I did? I knew his reasons, but I know nothing of your reasons or any other man for that matter. That is also why I spared you the sword, at least for now."

"You wish to know why I played the deserter along with the others when I had stood by you against the Mad King? Of all the things you could ask me, that is what you choose? Then in that case, it is the one thing I will deny you, queen of straw. If I die today, my works die with me, yet I will go to my end knowing that I carried my secrets with me. If it is possible to see from whence I go, then I will gladly look upon your frustrated face. I will say this, however." Turning his face to the crowd, Okale cried out with a loud voice, "Long live King Ludveck!"

At once, a thousand voices rose up in a single accord for the death of the speaker. Though each word seemed to twist and twine with its fellows, Lucia could discern some over the din. Some called for death, others merely for the tongue of the count. When again, Okale shouted the praise of a betrayer, the multitude grew louder. Lucia thought her ears would never again hear a sound save for those cries. At length, Elincia raised her hands if only to quiet those who stood near. When they did so, their fellows did likewise until, like a gentle wave a child makes in the rivers, a peaceful, yet surely frail, silence swept over the courtyard.

"It seems I have no need to prolong this," said the queen. "Okale, you have indeed done things worthy of a sentence of death, and that is exactly what you shall receive from me." The queen turned to Rolan. "Melior has no gallows post nor an executioner. Therefore, as you have wished to do, you may see to this. Take this man past the boundary of the city, and strike off his head. Will you do this?"

"I surely will, my queen. I'm not a man who strikes another for a petty squabble, but I'd be doing my friends a wrong turn if I didn't see this one dead."

"And what of his tome? Shall we have it destroyed?" Lucia asked pointing to the book still resting in its box.

"Have it brought to the archives. I will decide its fate later, though it would surely be a fitting punishment to have it die along with its master. Now, be gone with him, Rolan. As for the rest of you, return to your posts. As for those who have returned, go and take your rests. You have surely earned them."

"What of the war council?" said Geoffrey. At once, Kieran spoke again.

"I do not need to rest, my queen. I am surely stronger than mere fatigue."

"Maybe so, but I think we could delay it for one day. I would not want my deputy-commander falling asleep in front of his peers. Now, go and take your rest, Kieran. Come, Lucia," she added, turning to return to her house.

The lady, however, stood watching them drag the man now condemned away to do with him as Elincia had said. She heard the footsteps of the queen and the book bearer behind her, but she remained rooted to the ground, as if she were any growing thing. She knew not why she watched the executioner appointed only moments ago leaving with his charge. But she felt she must. Lucia strangely found the count a kindred spirit, for she thought of the fateful afternoon when she was dragged as he was to a certain doom. The lady could not help but wince as the gates closed, as though it was a blow upon her back. She stood there quietly, wondering strange thoughts. Would it be quick? Would he beg? Would he plead for his life when she had not? Would they taunt him and tease him as they had done to her once?

"He will have no one to come for him," Lucia uttered softly finding her voice, "No arrow, no rider, and no sword to save his neck. Should I take comfort in knowing that my queen has rid her kingdom of yet another enemy? Or should I pity him because I've been also treated in such a way?"

"Lucia?" Elincia called, sounding quite surprised at the words. The lady turned to see her milk-sister still standing in the doorway. Had she stood there long? Would she see the look in her eyes? Lucia did not know, but she turned to meet her friend nevertheless. "Lucia, are you coming?"

"If it would please you, Elincia," Lucia began, "I request that you let me oversee Rolan and his party."

"What reason would you have for wanting to see an execution? I would think that would be the last thing you would want to see."

"I have killed and seen men killed before, Elincia. I consider it my duty to ensure that this is done; that an enemy of yours is given his reward. More than that, I wish to guard them if Okale should try to escape." Lucia wondered if her queen would truly believe such a thing, for she believed it not herself. Again, the lady hated the foul taste of the lie, but she knew not if Elincia could bear the equally foul taste of the truth.

"Do as you will, Lucia," said the queen. "You have known best in many things, and if you see fit to observe this terrible thing, then I will say no more." And so she left the side of her queen.

* * *

><p>When the lady had at least reached the place where they had gone, she found Rolan holding his sword at the ready. The others had unbound the count only as needed to compel him to kneel before the fateful blade, and by now he had done so. Lucia had entered their sight as the unflinching weapon was laid upon the neck of its victim. Lucia had always thought of herself as such a blade; unyielding and strong, but the words of the count had worked rust upon her. As much as he was able, Okale turned his head to the sound of the crunching earth beneath the lady's boots.<p>

"Ah, so the queen sends her prized sheep to a crippled wolf," said he. "Does she not fear for you?"

"You don't open your mouth again, you maggot's spawn," Rolan snarled. "The sooner we're rid of you, the better we'll all sleep." His voice and eyes softened as he looked to Lucia. "What brings you here, my lady? This is not a place you should be; go back to the queen."

"I wish to speak with the prisoner before he dies." The lady could not begin to describe the look of surprise upon the face of the executioner, but Rolan merely withdrew his blade.

"Speak quickly, my lady," he warned. "As I said, the sooner we're rid of him, the better."

Lucia nodded and approached. "Before I do, give me your word, men, that what is said here will go no further." When they had all agreed, she looked down at the count. She did not bother to bring her lips to the ears of her teaser, for she saw no reason to whisper. "What did you see?"

"Whatever do you mean?" hissed Okale. "I see many things."

"What made you say I was troubled? What did you see in me?"

"So you are troubled then?"

"So what if I am? What concern is that of yours?" Lucia said in an impatient retort. "What did you see?"

"I will not say. Of what value is it to you if I tell you what I know? But know this, Lucia the sheep, I see the fear in your eyes; it is the one thing I recognize most of all. And you will have good reason to fear. One day, you and your queen will both have the same reason to fear."

"That is enough!" Lucia shouted, unable to listen to another word. "Let the blade fall, Rolan. Let it fall and be done with."

And so, the lady stood there silently, as again the executioner placed his blade upon the Black Count and with the fiery strength of due vengeance coursing through his arms, the sword rose and fell and Okale died. Lucia thought perhaps that the words, those chilling winds still ringing in her ears, would subside upon their speaker's end, but they did not. Instead, they seemed to chill her more and more. When at last, they took his body away, Lucia turned to leave. As she walked slowly and soberly back to her queen's house, she passed Count Bastian with his eyes set on where she had come.

"Ah, fair lady, what brings your steps here?" said he.

"I was seeing to the sentence handed down by the queen," the lady answered.

"So, Okale is dead then. Alas, I would have liked to have had words with him for the last, but I see the slowness of my feet has cost me the words of my tongue. Still, I should like to pay what final esteem I may give to a pupil and what last odium I may repay a traitor. Tell me, where have they laid him to rest?"

"They're likely to bury him near where they killed him," Lucia said, pointing back behind her. She did not wait to hear what words of thanks Bastian spoke to her. She could only keep her feet upon their road back to the castle. As she crossed the gate, Lucia could not help but lightly and quietly sob at her vain attempt to answer what haunting riddles still filled her mind and soul. She managed a false face again for the court, the queen, and her family, but as she laid herself upon her bed that night, she reached for another bottle where she had hidden it and drank until her head could not withstand its own weight nor her eyelids theirs. For she still saw the faces in the darkness about her, and now she could not relieve herself of the stinging gust of the words of the slain count.

* * *

><p>From out of the light of their rooms, two men escaped into the inky blackness of the night. They had met together, Shinon and Gatrie, to concoct some wild and cunning scheme, and now they hurried to achieve it. Through the woods around the fort, they ran. Through small cold streams, they ran. Through the biting air, they ran, with thoughts of glory and gold guiding them, drying them, warming them, though it was hardly a feeling of warmth. Greed and pride drove the archer forward, who sought only to claim a rich bounty for himself and prove his leader a fool. Truly, his thoughts could bring him no warmth.<p>

Loyalty compelled Gatrie, however, yet still the fleeting glitter of unclaimed gold filled his eyes as well. And so they went on. Perhaps, the shimmering of riches in the dark was too great for their eyes to bear, for neither of them could see that they were quickly becoming lost.

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><p><strong>AN: **Sorry again for the long wait for this update. Besides that, I hope you all found the length agreeable. It took me a while to write it, and the exchange with Elincia and Count Okale took a couple of tries. If any of you are wondering what that word akab means, I'll explain. The ancient language in Path of Radiance and Radiant Dawn is really backwards Japanese. Akab the right way is baka, which means 'fool' or something along those lines. I don't speak Japanese, so I'll have to trust the translator.

A big shout-out goes to HaveAHeart301, my amazing beta. Thanks for all you do and for all the support you give me, especially the names of the three tomes.

And another big shout-out goes to all of the readers. You make the time and the effort worth it all.


	5. Chapter V: Of Councils and Challenges

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait. I had at first meant to publish a bunch of stories in one big push, but that didn't happen. This chapter is more dialogue-based than some of the others, but I hope you'll like it anyway. You'll also notice a slight change to the story, which I'll explain later. Anyway, enjoy.

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><p><strong>Chapter V: Of Councils and Challenges<strong>

It was at an uncertain hour when Lucia awoke that day. Thick drapes veiled her windows, and she did not know whether the morning was in its waking hours or if it had aged into the afternoon. Concerning the time, she knew that it was upon the first day since the death of Okale, the Black Count. Aside from this, she knew nothing else, save for two things. She knew of the dull ache in her head and a slight weight resting upon her right hand. Was it a knife or some other small blade? Lucia could not tell, although she was not at all inclined to sleep with weaponry. Her thoughts wobbled sleepily about as though they still lingered in the dreamless slumber from which she had stirred. She blinked in an attempt to force her eyes to gaze into the shades and shadows with all the acquaintance of eyes that have long stared at such things.

The lady lifted her hand to before her face, and as she began to recall the touch of glass, she realized that she held a bottle. Even with such a covering as her windows clothed themselves in, she could tell that the amber draught was now gone. Though they came slowly to her thoughts, she recalled the words of the slain magician, the uncertain yet dreadful prophecy upon his lips before his head fell before the fate the queen had given it. She recalled how she had hoped to drown out such utterances. Indeed, even with her windows clothed so thickly, she could tell that she had consumed half of the burning drink.

With a small smile, Lucia released the bottle, and it landed with a soft thud upon her bed. The lady sighed with a gentle and yet saddened breath as she stretched her legs as far as they would permit. For a time, Lucia thought to remain where she lay. She had seen no face as she slept the night before, no face to drive her to frightened awakening. Aside from her head, she felt no ill effect, and she wondered if the court might permit her to savor what peace she had found, no matter how delicate a thing it was.

She could not take such a luxury this day. Over the course of but four days, she knew that she had done more to stir the suspicions of the queen's halls and the worries of her own kin and her dearest friend. She thought of that day in the library when she had thrown Elincia to the ground as though she were seized by madness. Though the day before now had eased the fearful looks from her amber eyes, Lucia knew well she must keep an appearance if only to delay what Lucia considered unneeded.

"She does not need to know of this, and if I can help it, Elincia never will." At the moment, Lucia let another sigh escape her, though it was hardly a breath of ease and content as before. No, it was rather one of irritation at such a lapse of memory. "The council," Lucia said, bringing a fist down hard upon her bed. "It will hardly look proper if I do not attend."

Quickly, Lucia threw aside her bedclothes and arose. She hurried to cast the telling bottle beneath her bed and dress. She stepped outside her room and looked about to her left and right. She wished for someone to tell her the time of day, yet her eyes saw no man or maid. She hurried down a hall, her breaths coming at the pace of her clicking heels. Again, she saw no one. Turning down another hall, she continued on until, at length, she came upon a guard walking his path away. Without concern for her rapid steps, she continued to run after him.

"Sir," she called out, stopping her sprint moments before she surely would have struck the man head on. The guard stopped where he stood and turned.

"My lady," said he, as formally as he would if he had found himself in the presence of the queen, "how may I be of service to you?" Lucia also caught a slight trace of surprise in his words, but this did not come as any surprise to her. She had chased him, and any man would likely find that odd. For a guard, it would surely seem especially strange.

"What is the hour?" Lucia replied.

"Two marks and one half since dawn, my lady. Her Majesty is already taking her morning meal in the great hall."

"Has she asked of me?"

"I cannot say, Lady Lucia. I have been on watch since this morning, and I haven't spoken to the queen. I did hear from some fellows of mine that she finds you quite puzzling of late, although I'm sure Her Majesty didn't use those words."

"I suppose she would find my behavior that way," Lucia replied, turning her face away. The swordswoman briefly pondered what sort of shame would be put upon her name should Elincia discover the hidden bottles. She wondered if the queen had somehow already learned of it, although she doubted it. Lucia did not answer the guard until she heard him speaking her name.

"My lady?" said he. With a light shake of her head, Lucia again met the face of the guard.

"Yes," she answered quickly.

"Did you not hear me?"

"I'm afraid I didn't. I was just thinking, and I'm sorry if I seemed distant."

"Well, I won't pry; you're always thinking about Her Majesty and what could hurt her. What I was saying, though, is that a lot of people find your behavior that way, with all due respect of course. If my lady would like, I know a physician that might help; he does wonders, and I'm not just speaking idly."

"I have no need for a physician, sir," said Lucia with the courtesy of her station, but in her heart of hearts, the lady held such soured thoughts at his advice. While she would often consider the counsel of soldiers and her spies if they were to bring it to her ears, in this matter, Lucia thought poorly of any such notion of guidance or suggestion. "I thank you for recommending him."

The man nodded, and Lucia continued on down the hall. All the while, the lady again weighed the words of the guard. She thought of his mention at the observance of the royal house and the thoughts of its mistress, even though Lucia knew well that the queen had found her conduct far too strange for her nature. She again thought of what she might say if she knew of all she had done, yet the lady doubted she had any need for concern.

When she came to the great hall, she found Queen Elincia at her table as the man had said she was. At the side of his queen was Geoffrey, and a few of the visiting nobles sat about the room, partaking of the morning's meal, Count Erebus and Lord Horace among them. Lucia cringed with a light embarrassment knowing that she had come late. She took some comfort in the realization that the war council had not yet taken place, for the lady knew the queen would not ask that of any of her men, save that she provide for their hungry bellies first. Lucia walked slowly to the queen's table and took her seat at her place on the other side of her milk-sister. To look at Elincia, even from the side, Lucia could spot a happy glisten in her eyes at the sight of her coming.

"I had thought to send someone to see to you, Lucia," said the queen. "You are usually right at my side, before the meal, and now the meal is nearly over."

"Forgive me, my queen," the lady replied.

"Are you well? You have not seemed yourself for far too long. You seemed even less as yourself after yesterday."

"No, I was not myself at all after yesterday. I do not know why, but it seemed as though whatever had come over me was altogether worse. Do not worry for me, my queen; I think that the matter has passed. I am perfectly well today."

"Perhaps it wasn't wise for you to witness the Black Count's execution, sister," Geoffrey added. "You are strong in heart, and not a man could say otherwise, and yet even the strong can waver when burdened with too much."

"I have seen worse than the likes of his death before, brother," Lucia answered in a courtly voice as he had done. "I doubt that such a thing would cause me to falter." At that, Elincia turned to her with an inquiring eye, and at once Lucia felt again the cold fingers of uncertainty, though she knew not of what to doubt.

"Did he say anything, Lucia? You had said nothing since you returned, and I had thought for a good part of the evening on the matter. If Okale had said anything, I do not doubt that you would have said. You said nothing, but still, I didn't think to ask it then."

Lucia felt a chill course its way slowly down her back, too slowly for her liking. The lady pondered what answer to give. Should she speak truthfully of what the dead man had spoken? Would her monarch ask her more of the affair if she did? Lucia recalled that he had said nothing of great note, except for what she would dismiss as the babblings of a fool. And yet, she could not help but ponder his final utterance, for it was what weighed so heavily upon her. Perhaps, she reasoned, it was best not to speak of it yet, until such time as she knew its meaning.

"He said nothing that should concern you, my dear queen," answered she at length, although she hated to speak another false word to Elincia. Slowly, the royal nodded in reply.

"If only Bastian had reached him before Rolan's blade did. Perhaps their former camaraderie would have loosened his lips better than the ill will he held for his master's captor. But enough of that," added she. "I'm sure you are hungry."

Lucia nodded, as she looked upon the pieces of bread browned before the flames and beaten eggs along with a few of the remaining greens from the palace store room resting on her plate and a bowl of hearty grain meal. Her belly groaned at its empty state, and it had done so since she had awakened, although she had not heeded it.

Elincia smiled a kind smile as she rose and called for her cooks, who lingered in the kitchen not far from the tables. "Fetch a bowl of meal for Lucia and some bread as well," she bade them before looking again at her milk-sister, "would you care for eggs as well?" These the lady refused, and when the cooks returned, Lucia gladly ate her fill. As she did so, she again and again silently repeated the words she had earlier spoken to brush away what fearful things that still linger about her head.

"At what hour is the council?" Lucia asked afterwards. Not a person had spoken to her as she ate, and she was glad of it. She was certain that all in attendance thought little of her strange conduct as of late. As she asked of the coming assembly, the lady hoped that it would only further convince them that all was well concerning her.

"I shall open my court until two marks passed midday," the queen stated, rising from her chair. "I'm told that my people have many cases to bring to my ears, and I wish to hear them before I see to the hunting of the Blazing Iron. Boldan shall have his day; my people must have theirs." Lucia happened to spot Count Erebus approaching, alongside the Duke of Canteus. Already the swordswoman let out a sigh at the thought of what the keeper of Nados would dare to say.

"May I speak, Your Majesty?" asked he.

"I am certain you will whether I permit it or not, Steward. Yet, my halls are open to those who wish to bring word to me; you may speak freely, but do not test me. Know this before you open your mouth, however; I will not abide your mockery forever."

"I have no intention of mocking you, Your Majesty. I simply wish to ask this simple question. Do you not find it out of the character of a queen to abide the commoners as you do? Should you concern yourself with their meaningless prattle and the petty disputes they bring before you? And if that is not all, is it not putting your own person at risk? Do you not worry that some may support the cause of Felirae? With your throne room as open as it is, I find it surprising that no one has made an attempt on your life?"

"Are you threatening the queen?" Geoffrey asked, again keeping a courtly tone, yet one that held a slow anger at the thought, though only Lucia and likely Elincia herself took note of it. "I should warn you that you may spend the night in a cell instead of your room if anyone here finds your words too ominous."

"That will do, General, but I thank you," Queen Elincia responded. "As for you, Steward, you talk of meaningless prattle, and yet, you seem to speak it yourself."

"I must agree with the steward, Your Highness. It is far too risky to allow your court to remain open as you do. It would take no hard effort to reach you. At the very least, you should consider his words," said Lord Horace.

"I have indeed considered it, and you do speak wisely, Lord Canteus. But having lived and walked among the people, can I turn a blind eye to their cares? Are they not the very foundation of our country? No, I cannot close my doors to them. Ludveck would have done so, my lords, but I will not." And then the queen bade the cooks to see to the dishes now emptied before leaving with Geoffrey following behind and Lucia behind him. The lady had lingered back to listen as the Steward of Nados conversed with his peer. She stopped for a moment and returned to the place where the two lords stood.

"I trust that you will both attend the council," said she, casting a wary eye at Erebus.

"Why is it your concern, Lady Lucia?" the steward replied quickly.

"Surely, a loyal noble to the queen would join her in the finding of a man so disloyal as Boldan. If not for the sake of Crimea, then surely for your own sake, you would heed the danger he poses."

"I do not fear a dead man, nor do I see any reason to attend such performance that your queen intends to use merely to divert herself. You may tell Her Majesty that, my lady."

Duke Horace gave a slow nod, "I likewise see no point to this. The royal campaigns have already proven costly, as costly as any war. Although if it is a test of loyalty, I will attend. If that does not assure you, my lady, if the queen asks it of me, I will lead the forces of Canteus across Crimea until we find the man." At this, Erebus scoffed and went upon his way with a final snort. Likewise, the duke of the west did likewise, though he did not act in such a way. Lucia, meanwhile, went before the throne and passed word to the queen that she would take up her daily testing with the sword. With a smile, Elincia dismissed her.

As she set herself against the wooden man she had chosen to oppose her, a thought came to Lucia. It brightened her face, for it would surely cause all who had taken a doubtful position at her conduct to rethink the unfavorable notions they had entertained. Indeed, as she struck her false foe again and again, Lucia thought to herself that all that fallen upon her these past days were but mere folly.

* * *

><p>Ike sat in his bedchamber without a single visitor or companion. He had woken upon the dawn and set about preparing his own breakfast, which he had eaten, although it had consisted of a few pieces of cold fowl and a piece of cheese. He was somewhat grateful for the winter's chill, for it kept their food longer than their larder could. All the same, he did not take kindly to the fingers of the season prying their way through the walls of the fort. After he had finished, he had returned to his room to await the rest of the company's waking. In truth, he did not sleep well the previous night. He had for mark upon mark considered the abrupt change in his deputy-commander, and he set his mind upon her reasoning.<p>

He had not known much of Titania's life before she fell into his father's ranks. Save that she was once a knight of the realm, Ike realized he knew nothing of her. Surely, she had known Boldan, yet he could not imagine in what form her familiarity had once taken. Was he a kin to her? Was he perhaps a dear brother-in-arms? Ike could not say. He had considered that he had held her in the bond of love and engagement, though it seemed unlikely that a man of such a wicked nature could indeed love.

"We'll have to finish with the wood bins today," he said slowly, unsure of why his mind had drifted.

For the past two days, the troop had worked seemingly without end to replenish their supply of kindling. While they had made progress, the mercenary could not help but think that it would be far wiser to fill them, even if the second month of winter was already half-ended, and he thought it best because his sister would remain with Titania.

He was soon interrupted by the quick sounds of knocking upon his door. Each tap came faster than the last. Some ill event must have surely occurred. When he bade his visitor to do so, the door opened to reveal the scarlet-framed face of his deputy-commander.

"Come quickly, Ike," she said.

Ike stood to his feet and tilted his head. "What's happened?" asked he.

"Just come with me. You will see, and I doubt you will like it. But come."

The mercenary followed the woman out of his quarters. She led him down a hall until they stood before a door, which, to arouse Ike's suspicions, was left opened by the slightest measure. It was the room dwelt in by Shinon; this Ike knew at once. Titania opened the door as far as possible, and lying beneath the morning sun, Ike saw it. The bed was empty. He did not know why; he had risen before any of the rest of company. He had not seen anyone else as he returned to his room.

"Perhaps, he's just in the mess hall," Ike commented, trying to determine the cause of the archer's absence.

"I had thought the same, Ike. He isn't there. What's more, I also looked in Gatrie's room; why I don't know, but I did. He's gone as well."

Ike narrowed his eyes at the empty bed. Though Titania could not see it, his brow furrowed into an angered set of lines. "I should have known he'd do this," he said slowly, for he needed to ponder the matter no longer. "I should have known Shinon would be so selfish that he'd run off for the bounty without anyone else. I should give him a good beating with his own bowstrings for that kind of disobedience."

"With that sort of talk, I assume you mean to go after him." Ike said nothing in reply. He could only stand there in deep concentration about what he might say or do to a man who had deserted his company on two occasions. He had welcomed the marksman back upon his turning from the army of Daein, and yet Ike now thought of him lesser than he had in the days of the Mad King's War. On that occasion, he had dismissed Shinon as acting as a man who had lost one he had held with esteem. Ike could hardly blame him for such a deed. But now, he felt such anger towards the archer. On this occasion, it was not grief but rather greed that had driven his fellow mercenary.

At length, Ike gave his answer, "I will do no such thing. Assemble the rest of the troop, Titania."

When they had all gathered together in the mess hall of the fort, Ike addressed them. When he told them of the two deserters, Soren quickly spoke his mind.

"We must go as well," said the staff officer. "I warned you that we would have every bounty hunter racing after General Boldan or his grave if he has one. Now, we have two of our own racing against us, and I have no doubt that Shinon will withhold every coin he gets, should he kill the rebel first. We must either go now or forget the entire undertaking."

"I have already made a decision," Ike replied. "It must have been late in the night when they left here. If I know Shinon, he has too much gold in his head to consider where his feet are going, at least at the moment he does. As for Gatrie, unless they part company, he's sure to get them both lost. Besides, they had no moon last night. I don't worry about them finding Boldan first. As for leaving now, we still have two people staying here, and I can't leave Mist and Titania with only a half-winter's load of wood. Tomorrow, we will set out; I promise."

"That will be a mistake, Ike," Soren commented in the same voice as he always had.

"It may very well be, but it will be my mistake then. Now, in the meantime, let's all eat so that we can get back to the woods."

* * *

><p>When the appointed time had arrived, Lucia came to the chamber where all meetings of war were discussed. She was glad of the late hour that Elincia had chosen for this unpleasant affair, for it was surely distasteful when a man should be hunted down, even a man of such infamy as the one who bore the title of Blazing Iron. She had spent the middle of the day in gentle ease and quiet, though she had once or twice dared to take a second look into the shadows behind her. On such occurrences, Lucia thought it best to remind herself of the proverb Crimea had often spoken, but she often had to amend her words with reassurances that nothing lurked behind her as a beast on the hunt would do.<p>

She had also taken small pleasures in returning to the familiarities she had often known before the uprising of Felirae and the incursion of Begnion against Crimea's sovereignty in the war. The daily training, the walks spent even around the palace and into the gardens, and even the comfort of the noonday meal, all seemed as better than even the glory of the battlefields.

"I am a fool if I let these last few days bring me away from the house of my queen," Lucia said with unwavering resolution. It was the same firm voice she had uttered upon the previous day, and on this day, she felt as though such a wall as one she had erected would never find itself breached.

And so, she entered.

It was a smaller room, the chamber of war, than the larger quarters that held the royal assembly. In place of a table that sat its head and those in attendance, a smaller table fashioned in the shape of a circle, much as the room itself was, stood in the center of the room, bearing its light burden of what Lucia supposed was a map of the country. Queen Elincia already stood, bending over the map. At her sides stood General Geoffrey and Chancellor Renning; Count Bastian and Kieran were there also, along with Lord Horace, now arrayed in the armor of a man of the battlefield.

Lucia found little surprise that only these men had attended. The arrogance of Count Erebus she had seen all too clearly that morning, and Count Gallabar found even the smallest notion of war foul. Percival, she knew, was not likely to stand at the side of her brother if he was at all able to avoid it. As for Cassandra, Lucia thought it best that she did not attend, but she did not think any longer of those who were not present; rather she thought only of what was to happen now.

At her entrance, the queen looked up from the map. "It is good to see you, Lucia," she said, even though it had not been long since their last meeting.

"Yes, my lady," Horace added. "I am glad to see you as well, for Her Majesty would not begin the council until you had arrived. But since you have come in a timely way, we will not have to wait."

"Mind your tongue, good sir," Bastian said suddenly, casting his eyes upon the Duke of Canteus. "Should not one speak better of one who has more than proved her worth for far more times than you have done so? Have you done such deeds that rival those done by the lady? If so, then you may speak to her in so mocking a manner, but if not, then mind to whom you speak."

"I did not mean to offend the lady, count. I was merely stating that the day of the royal assembly, she was unnecessarily delayed. But know that I am of higher rank than she, and I do not enjoy the lecturing of one who proclaims his love for her far louder than he should. I would say it clouds your own judgment."

"It will be a sad day for Crimea when Bastian finds his judgment clouded, but that day will never come. I could swear my life on that," Renning interjected. "I'm sure I am of higher rank than even you, Lord Horace, so I may lecture you. Do not presume for one moment that Bastian would allow anything to rob him of his sense. I have heard his skills were displayed quite well at the battle at Fort Alpea."

"Indeed, my lord Renning, indeed I say," Bastian rejoined. "A sad day it will be should my thoughts find themselves too clouded, but fear not, Majesty, and fear not, lord of the west. For it shall never be so, that even my heart, stoked with the fires of love for the fair Lucia, will cause my mind to falter. As our queen's lord has said, though it pained me to think that my lady might not survive it, I did proceed as the deviser would. But oh, how I pray that you, my lady, shall never again face such trial as that day."

Lucia had first felt her soul grow cold once more at the mention of Alpea, though she would gladly live through it again, but then she felt the slightest touch of heat upon her cheeks as the count spoke another of his numerous declarations of love. She had always counted the words of Bastian as the mere ramblings of a smitten fool, and she likewise considered this one the same.

Holding up her hand, she, herself, spoke, "If it is for the queen, Count Bastian, I will face any trial. I thank you for speaking for me, but please allow me to speak for myself. I am quite able to defend myself with words just as I can with a sword. As for you, Chancellor, I agree. It will be a sad day if we should lose a mind so exceptional, even if he tends to lose it himself in his musings. And as for you, Lord Horace, I take no offence, and once again, I am sorry for that delay. But we have delayed this long enough. Shall we begin, Your Majesty?"

At her words, the queen nodded, "Let us begin then." Lucia found a place by the side of the queen and peered over the map. "As you told us at the royal assembly, my lord Horace," Elincia continued, "your army had swept the western countryside." The monarch swept her hand over the western portion of the map as Lucia imagined those who bore the royal banner had done, "And you say you found no sign of General Boldan."

"No, we hadn't found as much as a single sign. If you must know, Your Majesty, I have even asked of him in many of the villages my men and I passed through, and they had seen no one. In fact, I should like to say that west is teeming with vigilante clans, and none of them have seen a man who even resembles the Iron. If he had turned west, he likely would have met his doom on one of the forest gibbets."

"I'd say you give those vigilantes far too much credit and Boldan far too less, my lord" commented Lucia. "He would go near them if he saw fit to go near them, and what's more I have no doubt that he would walk among a dangerous lot if only to hide himself better."

"I would heartily concur with the lady," Bastian added. "Long have I known the man and for far longer than I would desire to recall. To raise a shield against danger to himself, would he seek to flee or rather to hide where one does least expect? He is not a fool of a man, though he does not carry himself as one."

"I have been asked of him before, my lord." Lucia knew not what to say. Had she heard of the man from one of her many spies? She was not certain. The lady could recall many concerns her watchmen had brought to her of late, and yet they had all seemed as though they were shrouded from her memory. She had so devoted all thought to what strange troubles had fallen upon her that she had not heeded their words. "But I have heard nothing of Boldan," she added.

Queen Elincia bade all those present to return to the map, "If he has not gone west, then certainly he has fled to the east."

"Perhaps, Your Majesty, he has fled across our border and into Gallia," Geoffrey offered. "It is not at all difficult for one to cross into the lion's kingdom. Furthermore, he would have had ample time to make the crossing. It may be that he has found refuge among the land of the beasts."

"If they harbor him," Renning said soberly, "then they harbor a traitor. My brother had many dealings with King Caineghis, and I also knew him as a friend and ally. From what I hear, he is no longer on the throne. A change in rulers often means a change in the temperament of the country, and from what I know of King Skrimir, he is a hot-blooded one. If Boldan has found refuge or even favor in his lands, and we pressure him, then I worry that it may throw us into a conflict with Gallia.

"I hope it doesn't go that far, my lord," Elincia replied. "To you, General Geoffrey, I had given that possibility some small thought, but I didn't think it likely. If he is outside my realm, it will make no difference. I fully intend to offer my bounty to any country that delivers him to me. But now that you have mentioned it, perhaps he is indeed within the lands of laguz."

"Nay, my queen and nay to you, General Geoffrey," said Bastian with a shake of his light-brown head. "Do you not know the man for whom this council plots his coming and merited downfall? Could he abide the laguz or did he oft' attach the hated name of 'sub-human' as he has, likewise, a hated name attached? I do not deny that he may now dwell among the trees of Gallia, but I find it far more likely that he has not given his own natures if they may be called so. So, let that also put your concerns at ease, Lord Renning. We should fear no conflict with the beast nation. And if that does not put your mind at ease, the let the face that a man as Boldan could find no favor with even the beasts."

Lucia saw the Duke of Canteus place one hand under his chin. She wondered what he may have to offer the council when next he spoke. She also found it curious that Kieran had remained silent for so long, although she found it enjoyable that he had not yet seen fit to do for.

"Perhaps we approach this endeavor in the wrong way," Horace suggested. "Perhaps we should take another course of action to see it through."

"How so?" Lucia asked. "How would you think we should approach this?" The other attendants echoed her question. It was not long before the addressed man gave his answer.

Boldan is a man of the shadows, and he has likely taken to them for his company. If we seek such a man, then should we not do so with the guide of another man of the shadows?"

"If you refer to this stranger who has given aid to my army," said Elincia. "I would gladly petition him, if I knew how we could find him. Yet no one knows where he is; he comes and goes as he likes."

"I was not referring to him, Your Majesty. Rather I refer to another such man, one who has availed his services to our court before. Oh yes, Count Bastian, I know of your dealings with the blade-for-hire they call the Fireman. If he is as most of his kind are, he will be easy to control."

"You speak of using assassins, my lord?" Kieran said suddenly and quite near to a shout, much to the dismay of his hearers. "Can I believe my ears? Your Majesty, we need no such men, for your knights carry with them the blades of justice! We are the bearers of your goodness, and no evil will stand against it."

"Calm yourself, Kieran, before you fall to the floor drained of your breath," Renning advised. "I don't like the idea of enlisting men like that any more than you do. However, my brother had once needed the aid of a man of a less-than-savory occupation when he was king. It had to be done, and he did it for that reason alone."

"Thank you, my lord uncle," Elincia added with a hand held high for silence, though she looked to the red knight as she did so. "He has spoken well, my lord Kieran. In these times, we must use whatever tools we have to protect this country, no matter how crude they are. As for you, my lord Horace, you have just given a reason why I should not enlist the Fireman. Volke is as Boldan is; neither is bound to any kingdom or bond of loyalty. He is easy to control, but who will control him? Volke is loyal only to the coin, and he can be swayed by it. No, I think it better that we do not go to him. I think that we should sweep the eastern portion of Crimea before we do anything else. The royal knights will cover the land from Melior to Delbray and if need be to our border with Daein."

"It will be a costly campaign, Your Majesty," Duke Horace commented. His voice carried in it a subtle tone of disapproval, yet knowledge that the decision was made, "but you are the queen, and we your servants."

"I am glad to hear even one of my nobles speak in such a way, although I do recall you shouting among the loudest of them against my support for Daein. But I do not hold it against you, my lord. Since the royal knights have only just returned and the healers still tend to the wounded, I will allow them their well-earned rest. In two or three days, I shall dispatch them."

"I have three-hundred men who can still ride and bear a weapon," Geoffrey said in a rather eager tone, as if he were savoring the taste of a fine piece of boar. It came as a surprise to Lucia to hear such a voice from her brother, and she was certain the queen did not expect him to speak in such a way. The swordswoman wondered if he thought to exact due reprisal upon the sought man, though she had not known her kin to be of a vengeful nature. Still, she supposed it would come easily to any man; even the hero of Crimea, Ike himself, had avenged himself upon the famed Black Knight. "I could have them assembled in by midday tomorrow, and we could depart quickly. Please, Your Majesty, grant me the honor of riding at their head."

At his request, Elincia's face fell and her eyes seemed to dull, "You are an honorable man, General, and you have served me well in battle. I can think of no man who is more capable than yourself to lead this campaign. But I cannot allow it. Kieran will take charge of the royal knights." The red-armored knight seemed all aglow with pride or rather with arrogance as Lucia often thought of him.

"I shall have the men assembled in half a mark, Your Majesty," he proclaimed loudly. "We shall ride at once, and Boldan will..."

"If you take command, then Boldan will slip through your fingers," Horace interrupted. "Your Majesty, if this incompetent fool takes the front of your knights, then it will all be for naught. Kieran may have a peer in our general as far as fighting is concerned, but in matters of leadership, his stupidity is second only to Makalov. If he is the prince of layabouts, Kieran is the prince of conceit. In light of this, I insist on leading the army myself."

Lucia could not help but smile. She found it humorous that a man such as he would make such a request and word it in such a manner. "You insist," she said, hoping that he did not think her speaking as his superior. "My lord, is that not a strange way to present a request before your queen?" She wondered if he sought this post in regards to his age of forty and seven. She thought perhaps he wished to relive his youthful days upon the field of battle, should he find one, although she would not speak of that before him.

"Indeed, it is, sister," Geoffrey concurred. "But grant me this, my queen: Kieran is a fine soldier, but in the days prior to my commission, you know well I was instructed by the Iron himself. I know how he fights. If we should engage him, I am sure that I would be the better man."

"I am sorry, Geoffrey," Elincia answered, "I cannot permit it. As for you, Lord Horace, you have also served me well, and you have done far greater deeds for your motherland than any of the lords before you. I am still saddened that you efforts demanded the life of your brother, though we will speak of it no longer. However, do you think it wise for a man of such age to take on so great a charge? Should you not retire to your hall and live out your life in comfort?"

The duke would hear none of it. And though the queen took great efforts to dissuade him, the stone of the west would not falter. When, at length, Elincia tired of it and it was clear that the assembly would go no further, she conceded and granted him his place at the head of her fighting men, on the condition that he permit Kieran to accompany him. With that, the council was ended, and the duke of Canteus departed the chamber with the red-armored knight at his side to make ready for the departure.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, the queen and her milk-siblings were left standing in the room, though Lucia quickly approached her ruler. Elincia's amber eyes seemed brighter at the sight of the lady seeming as herself. Lucia was glad to see such a face upon her, for she was now certain that the queen had put all remembrance of the earlier days out of her mind.<p>

"Is there something you wanted, Lucia?" Elincia asked.

"I was wondering if you had seen Lord Percival today, Elincia. I haven't seen him at all, and I thought perhaps I could spar with him."

"Must you, sister?"

"Geoffrey, I have agreed to be his instructor in the art of the sword. If you had a pupil, would you disregard him because another found him troubling without cause?" Turning back to the queen, she went on, "Have you seen him today?"

"I haven't," Elincia replied. "But if he is not in his quarters, then he is likely in the library or in the training room himself. Go and teach him well, Lucia."

The lady departed only to hear the concerning footsteps of her brother following along behind her. When they stood outside the door, Geoffrey bade her to remain and to turn to him.

"I wish you would think better of this, my dear sister," said he in warning. "Percival is a dangerous fellow. He is no better than the seed of Ludveck himself. Please, Lucia, do not go to him."

"Geoffrey, do not fear for me. Percival may have lived in the house of Felirae, but he is not at all the man that Ludveck was. If you would only see that for yourself, you would surely not fear for me as you do. He is twice the man that his predecessor was in character."

"Ludveck himself put on a noble mask for the entire court, and now he sits in a cell waiting for justice to be done to him. How do you know that Percival does not where the same mask? We didn't realize it of Ludveck until he struck our country. And if that does not worry you, should you not be concerned that he favors you too much?"

"Percival does not favor me, at least not in the sense that you believe."

"He does not? Then why would he insist that you alone would train him? I speak only as your brother, Lucia. Please, take my words to heart and don't go to him."

The lady placed a reassuring hand upon her brother's shoulder, "I have considered it, Geoffrey. I admit I do not know what sort of man Percival will make himself to be, but I see no reason to fear him. As for why he wished for me to train him, perhaps it is because he finds in me a friend that he does not have in anyone else. I'm sure he does not think of me in any coarse way. Now, please don't concern yourself any longer."

Over the strong protests of he who stood behind her, Lucia left to find her awaiting student.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **That wasn't so bad was it? Now, I know what some of you might be thinking: why would Renning be concerned with Gallia? Like I had him say, a change in a ruler probably would lead to a change in the attitude toward the country. Plus, he probably doesn't know Skrimir very well, so he can't judge his character.

Now, on to to the fact that I labeled this as 'Book 1.' With how long these chapters are, I'm thinking it would be better to publish the story in 4 'books' if you will, so this will be book 1. I have no idea how long the entire thing would be, but I imagine it would be pretty overwhelming.

Thanks go to HaveAHeart0301, my fantastic beta. I couldn't do it without you. And of course, I'd like to thank the people who've read and reviewed. Shadows of a Dream, Nami-san625, Sentury, Gunlord500, and of course my newest reviewers, Archsage12, LordEphidel, and ShiverInTheLight. It's people like you that make it all worth the while.


	6. Chapter VI: Fight and Flight

**A/N:** So, I finally managed to get some work done. I know I keep saying it'll take less time, but it doesn't seem to. Your patience is always appreciated. I was originally going to post this for Thanksgiving, but then I thought all my readers might be passed out from all that turkey. So, here it is.

Enjoy

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter VI: Fight and Flight<strong>

Lucia came to the guest room that was reserved for any one of the visiting noblemen, but on this occasion housed the Duke of Felirae. Knocking on the door, she was quite expectant to see Percival emerge from his room, for he was not often given to the need to go far. She had known him to stay in his assigned quarters more times than not, even though other places within the palace likewise held his attention. When the duke did not appear, Lucia again knocked. Again, he did not come.

The lady wondered if she should dare to enter. Though they were quite familiar with each other, the ears of the royal house would no doubt hear of her visit to his room, and though it was only in the middle marks of the afternoon, it would surely cause idle talk among them. Lucia had no intent to bring further harm upon the lad or the name he was unfortunate enough to bear. If a poor word should reach the ears of her brother, Lucia had little doubt that he would act as her shield, even if he had no cause to do so. With such a thought at the forefront of her cares at this hour, she departed.

Though Percival was not prone to wandering, she knew that his steps would indeed carry him to only two other places. As she walked the halls, Lucia sighed heavily in pity for the youth. She wondered what cause, save for his bloodline, the other noblemen of the country, and yes, even Geoffrey, had to hold any offense against him.

"They held Daein's King Pelleas in contempt because of his family line," Lucia wondered aloud, though she kept her voice from reaching any tone beyond a gentle whisper, "He was the son of Ashnard, and Percival has only a trace of Ludveck's blood in his veins. How is it that they consider both men the same? If anything, they should consider them fine examples of royalty and nobility."

Even now, the dire warnings spoken by Geoffrey echoed through her thoughts, unwelcome as she found his advice concerning this matter.

_"He does not? Then why would he insist that you alone would train him? I speak only as your brother, Lucia. Please, take my words to heart and don't go to him."_

Lucia spoke again, hoping to quiet the troubled yet clearly ill-natured words that would not cease, "He does not think of me as my brother believes. He is not as Ludveck was towards me; no, he is twice the man his kinsman was."

And yet, when Lucia recalled that night in the library when he had gazed upon her with such a strange look in his eyes of brown, the lady pondered if by chance her brother had spoken rightly. She was not at all unfamiliar with looks of admiration, adoration, and even on the occasion desire from men, even those whom she had served with in the days of Ashnard's occupation, and she had thought little of each and every glance given to her. She knew well that she was found lovely by many; perhaps in some way, Percival thought of her in such a way.

"But surely he would not," said she, again hoping the doubting whisperings would fade. "Surely, he is a better man than to think such things of me." Lucia said those words until she believed that her tongue would not abide with her any longer, and so she silenced herselfm if only to prevent its escape.

At length, she came to the doors of the library. It seemed strange to her to return to the vault of wisdom on a day that she resolved not to permit those same plaguing images to return to her eyes. She had hoped to shut herself away if only to learn their causes, and now she returned for another reason altogether. Even so, Lucia found that the great archive seemed too reminiscent of days not long ago that she wished not to recall.

She wondered if she should instead inquire to any of those whose steps would lead them here if Percival sat among them, but she soon found the thought childishly foolish. She was not a girl frightened by what was not there, as she knew some children to be. Still, she could not easily cast away the fearful remembrance And so, with an unnerved swallow, Lucia entered.

Again, Lucia paid little mind to the apprentices in the magic arts and hopeful scholars that scurried from shelf to shelf like honeybees to new flowers or idly spoke with their instructors about matters the lady cared not for. She did not have to look far to find the youth she sought. As he had always done, Percival sat alone at a single table. She recognized many of the books that he gathered, for most of them were the same texts that he had brought with him when he happened upon her in the library those four nights previous. Smiling slightly, Lucia neared the duke.

She took this moment to observe him, though she wondered why. Perhaps it was because she had not done so before, despite the familiarity he shared with the lady. He seemed quiet and uncaring for the comings and goings that went on around him. His brown eyes showed concerned only for the task at hand. Yet, as she watched him, on occasion, he seemed to reach for his only companion, the rapier _Cybele_, which hung at his side as it always had. She wondered if he knew what he did or if his hand took its leave of him.

It struck Lucia as strange that he should give himself entirely to the reading of his selected volumes, and it also did not please her as his instructor. Often had she taught him to mind his surroundings, especially if he intended to take up the sword. Remembering her purpose at the thought, she came to his table.

"Lord Percival," said she, catching him off guard as he once did to her. The duke, in haste, overturned a few of the books he had set aside, and Lucia thought he might have fallen to the floor had he not caught himself. He did rise and then stoop in order to retrieve his fallen volumes. He looked up with astonished eyes.

"Lady Lucia," he answered, still unsure of the visit. "Are you well today?" he added, after a degree of silence.

Though she did not show it, the swordswoman took a slight offense to the question. Its words, innocent as they were, brought a bitter twinge to her heart as she thought of the question that many had put to her of late. She did not wish to answer it, for she thought doing so would cause her to think back to the occasions where she had not the strength to give a reply. Yet for the sake of her courtly upbringing and appearance, she replied.

"I am well." She bent her knee to aid him in gathering up the scattered tomes. Perhaps if only due to the words of her brother, Lucia noted the hands of her pupil as they flitted here and there looking for another overturned book. Did they seek the company of her hands? Did they seek solitude to stave away some ill rumor? Lucia did not notice that her own hands took great efforts to avoid those of Percival, as they might in a tale told by the wandering bard. At length, the last of the books were again upon the table, and the two stood.

The same discomforting stillness that Lucia had felt in his presence those four nights ago fell again over the lady and the duke. It seemed to her as though she had come to him with no intent. As they looked upon each other, she could not permit even a single word to leave her closed mouth. Percival lightly kicked his foot against the floor, and he repeated the motion with the other.

Lucia paused, holding her hands behind her back. What had she come for? If only Geoffrey had not said such words concerning the youth; such untrue yet distracting words. Her eyes slowly drifted to _Cybele, _and at once, she recalled the purpose that brought her steps to him. Her pupil, however, managed to find his voice before she could speak even a single word.

"What brings you here?" he asked. "I am sure you did not come here only for us to stare at each other."

"You would be right, Percival," Lucia replied. "The council has ended, and I can think of nothing else that I must do today. I thought that perhaps you would care to spar, since you had asked me the day before yesterday. But if you are too occupied with your books," she added, stealing a small glance at the stack upon the table, "then your swordplay can wait. I have no doubt that the nobles will be staying a day or two more."

Percival likewise glanced at his books, with a look upon his face as one might wear if they were to be roughly pulled from the company of a friend. He then looked to his teacher, and with a smile, he stepped forward. "I think the books will not wander far. I would be glad to continue my lessons with you. At least your swordplay teachings don't unsettle my belly."

"If you were to fight with a blade, I have no doubt that you would find it most unsettling," Lucia remarked rather soberly. She spoke with truth, but she knew not how to describe the sight of glistening silver running red or the sight of a man slain by the sword. "But enough of that," she said quickly, waving her wand to dismiss the unpleasant talk, "we shall meet in the training hall in one mark. Don't be late."

She pointed her finger towards the duke in a stern and sharp manner as she would if he were but one of her recruits, for she held the sword as she held her station. Few men of his position would abide such talk from one beneath them, but Percival knew her well enough to take no offence to her words. When he answered with a simple nod, Lucia left him. She did, however, turn her head to allow him to glimpse a warm smile.

And then Lady Lucia took her leave of the library.

* * *

><p>The training hall of the palace was not at all large, for Crimea was not a nation of war as her neighboring Daein had been. Still, it was of a fairly generous size. It was a rounded room with eight walls, and all manner of device and instrument to make ready those who would one day take upon themselves a place in the army of the realm. It was a place Lucia knew well.<p>

As she entered, her eyes fell upon the series of circles in the middle of the room where those who tired of wooden man and wooden sword could take measure of their skill with their peers. To the left of the training circles, a single row of four wooden poles dressed in the manner of soldiers awaited those who had only begun the art of swordsmanship, and to their left was all manner of weaponry, from dulled and wooden blades to sharpened iron blades, axes, and shields all held in racks. At the lady's right hand was the great carved horse for those who sought the instruction of her brother. With a contented smile as she observed the room, Lucia stepped inside.

She crossed the training circles as she turned her steps towards the shelves. She thought well of this place; Lucia had tested many and had herself tested in these very circles. The lady thought of the bruises she had given and some that she had gained in mock combat. She knew not why, but it pleased her to think of those times, even the pain that it had given her on some occasion. She supposed it was because she thought of the comrades she had gained and the knowledge she had passed on to others. To have herself bruised was quite trivial to her when she recalled the happier times that had come of it.

Lucia set her gaze upon a single pell, and she selected a wooden blade not unlike her own. She had done this many a time, and her ability was far beyond that of those who would often fight against these false men. Yet, to pass the time, she thought it might suit her well to backtrack in her swordplay. She had also reasoned that she would do well to perform her daily repetitions if only to further repel the nightly faces before they could dare beset her again. She had resolved this day that she would never permit herself to give into the same fear that had stolen her sleep for night upon night, and though she had also taken up her training earlier before the council, it pleased her to do so again.

Feeling the weight of the blade in her hands, Lucia struck hard and fast at the pell. She had little doubt that she would have not the strength to meet her pupil when he should come to her, for she had tested her own resilience to such a point that many had spoken that she could surpass even a man. Yet for the sake of Percival, when she felt her breaths grow long and her face warm, she would stop and replace her false sword. She did not know how long she had waited, and so she left the room only briefly. When she had returned, he had still not yet come. Unwilling to tire herself too quickly, Lucia took to idly walking the room.

Once or twice, the lady thought she heard a wicked laugh, like that of the rebel mob or Boldan himself, ringing about the walls. She halted her steps and peered about, looking to see if she was not alone. Lucia held her breath, as she clenched her teeth and covered her ears in defiance against what strange thing had now come upon her.

"I will not give into whatever childlike fears have haunted me," she declared. "I will not." When she again heard nothing, Lucia allowed her shoulders to ease, for they had earlier tightened as if they were about to receive a blow. She held her belly and took deep breaths if only to still her heart. The lady straightened as the creaking of doors reached her ears. Lucia looked to see Percival entering at last. Smiling, she crossed the floor to meet him. "I am glad you came," she said, with a rather cheerful tone. "I was tiring of fighting wooden men."

"You were, Lady Lucia?" he answered back in a voice that Lucia found strangely pleased at her words. "May I ask why?"

"Wooden men don't fight back. If I must win a fight, I would prefer it if my opponent at least resisted," she countered in humor. Master and student shared a familiar laugh.

"Then I should tell you that I have practiced during my time in Felirae. I should be able to challenge you then. If nothing else, I would suppose that I will have you on the floor this time."

"We shall see, Percival. Yes, we shall see. But I won't have you fighting with that, at least not yet," said Lucia, pointing to _Cybele_.

"I see you fight with your sword quite often," the duke protested. "Why can't I do the same, now that I have more experience than when you first agreed to teach me?"

Lucia nodded at his question before speaking again, "Your arm has grown strong, and I don't doubt that you have practiced each and every technique I have taught you. But your arm is not strong enough yet, and I would not dare let you put a real sword in your hand now. I've known men who only harmed themselves rather than their opponents. If they were fortunate, they only lost part of a finger. And yes, I practice with my sword, but my sword is not here," she added, pointing to the absence of the scabbard on her belt. "Now, come, we'll find us both suitable weapons for a sparring match."

Lucia led Percival to the racks where he selected a wooden broadsword. Lucia chose another such blade for herself, and she led the duke into the center of the room. She bade him to stand still while she took another two steps from him. When she stood upon her mark, Lucia turned to face her pupil.

The lady took a moment to examine the posture of the youth. His stance was firm, as was her own. Yet Percival held his sword with both hands. Lucia wondered when he might find the strength to duel with only one hand as she did. She supposed that if he could come to Melior more than he did, he might have learned to do so sooner. Though she had long been his teacher, she had not found the occasion to teach him often in its coming. At length, she spoke again.

"I would prefer if we began with some simple techniques. While I am sure you've practiced, I would rather see how you have learned what I have taught you."

The Duke of Feliare shook his head. "I am more than prepared, my lady. If you doubt it, then test me." Lucia had to smile at the fortitude in his words. Percival was not a skilled swordsman in her eyes, but he was dedicated and eager to learn. In her years, Lucia had come upon men and women who had taken up the sword with talent alone and no heart behind such ability. It pleased her to find one who did not yet know the ways of the sword but who would not rest until he could have such knowledge. She secretly wished that all those who came under her tutelage would share such resolve.

"Very well then," she conceded, "but do not expect that I will not go lightly on you. If you wish to be tested, then I will do it. If you should end up nursing a large bruise on your side, then do not hold it against me."

"I will not," said he. Without another word, Lucia came at him. The duke was quick, and he managed to parry her strikes with his own. When she stepped to one side, he followed. When she dodged him, he pursued. She took a step back, and he met her by taking one forward. Again and again, the two of them came upon each other. Blade met blade. Lucia was indeed surprised at how well her strikes were matched by those of her pupil. Back and forth they stepped. Side to side, Lucia darted, and Percival kept pace. Just then, the duke and the lady rushed towards each other. Percival raised his sword high for a strike that would surely end this match in victory, but Lucia's blade was the faster of them. With a quick thrust, she struck her pupil squarely in the chest.

Percival bent over and lowered his blade. With a pained look, he dropped the sword and began to rub the place where he had been hit. Lucia likewise set her weapon upon the floor.

"You would be a dead man here and now if you had fought a true enemy," Lucia cautioned, setting her sword down upon the floor. "Are you hurt badly?" she added with concern.

"No, Lady Lucia," the duke panted, "although I am sure I will have quite the bruise. As for any injury, I think only my pride has been wounded. Tell me, Lady Lucia, how is it that you can bring your sword over your head and bring down a man, while I do the same and am brought down by my teacher?"

"I rarely leave myself so vulnerable as you did, in the first place. What you did was nothing but a foolish mistake. In the second place, if I were to raise my sword so high, I would do it quickly, and I would bring it down just as quickly. Think back to my earliest teachings: the strongest arm can be defeated by the faster one." He repeated the saying along with her, and it brought a cheered smile to Lucia's face. "At least you have paid careful heed to your training," she said, with praise and a touch of good humor in her words.

"Yes, I should know your words," Percival replied with the same good humor. "You never spoke of anything else during the beginnings of my time as your student. I believe I even repeated that very saying in my sleep. But see now, how long have we been at this match?" He asked for he could see her reddened face, and he noted the shallow rising and falling of her chest. Indeed, he, too, had a crimson flush to his cheeks and likewise breathed heavily upon the ending of their mock duel.

"Perhaps, I would care for a drink and to rest," Lucia said, pointing to the bucket of water that rested near the wooden horse. She knew that it was often filled and filled again throughout the course of a single day, so that no one should taste a warm and stagnant brew when they hoped for a cool and crisp mouthful. And so, the duke offered his hand to the lady, and they walked to the spot, leaving their swords where they lay. He drew a ladleful of water and handed it to Lucia. She protested, saying that he should drink first, but upon his insistence, she lifted the dipper to her mouth. When she had drunk, Percival filled the ladle for himself. They rested against the wall and slid to the floor.

The two said nothing for some time. Neither he nor she looked upon the other, although Lucia did wonder if he did turn his eyes towards her. Despite the bond she held with her pupil, the lady began to feel ill at ease with him so near to her, for again, she wondered at Geoffrey's warning. She noted that he did not sit beside her as Elincia might do if she were in her company. Lucia searched for some word she might say to break the silence that now seemed to sit between the master and student. For though she knew not what she could say, better she thought to speak what might come to mind than allow the stillness to have its way with her thoughts. She did not have need to find any word, for Percival spoke first.

"Tell me of the council," he asked, rather lightly. "Since I was not there, I wonder what the will of the crown decided upon." Lucia allowed her posture to slacken, and she turned her head towards the duke as the reply left her mouth. She began to tell him of what was said and done not more than a few marks ago. And when she had spoken of Kieran and the lord of Canteus making ready to depart at the moment, Percival could not contain a laugh.

"What do you find funny?" Lucia asked, with a light and nearly-amused voice herself.

"I find the thought of your deputy-commander riding side-by-side with a man with the disposition of Duke Horace. One is quite near to a fool, and the other cannot suffer a fool in the least. For that matter, does either of them believe that they could assemble a fighting force so quickly? I doubt the soldiers have finished spending their wages and filling their bellies with drink and food. If any man who has just arrived can even stand, much less march, I do believe we will see a miracle. If not, we will see Lord Horace in quite a fit."

At this both of them saw fit to laugh as they realized the humor of the truth in the words Percival had spoken. The image of the Duke of Canteus red-in-the-face and shouting at deafened ears seemed quite amusing indeed. At length, when their laughter had subsided, the duke turned his words to the duel that had ended for the time at hand.

"I want to thank you for coming today," he said slowly and carefully in a tone of voice the lady could not discern. Was it the words of friendship he spoke with or even as the close camaraderieof pupil and teacher? She could not tell, despite her wisdom in such matters. She supposed she owed the dulling of her wits to the past few days. Still, she wondered what reply should she give.

"You're welcome," Lucia answered at length. She began to once more think on Geoffrey's words, for his gratitude seemed very peculiar to the lady, though she did appreciate it. Why should he thank her as if she had granted him alms? She knew not why, but she thought it best to say more, "You did quite well today."

"Thank you," Percival replied, though his eyes now faced forward and did not bring themselves to meet hers as they had done earlier. Lucia found it curious that he should not look upon her now when he had so eagerly sought her company since the day of his coming to Melior.

"Yes, it seems that you did practice while you were away. Aside from a single fault, you have matched me."

"I owe it all to your training, Lady Lucia."

"Do not be so modest, Percival," she admonished gently. "And you don't need to be so formal when we are alone. You may call me by name if you wish. I call the queen by name when we are alone," she added with a slight shrug.

"Well then, Lucia, perhaps you would care to answer a question," he said. In his voice, Lucia could discern the heavy words of one with much to ponder and much that could not be found an answer. Truly, she thought that a matter weighed mightily upon his thoughts, and Lucia found herself wondering if, by some unhappy chance, his days were filled with some great concern that was in some ways not unlike her own. And when she nodded her assent, he went on. "What has changed in you today?" he asked. "These past few days you were so unlike yourself that you did not seem to even want to be in my presence, much less spar with me. So what has changed?"

Lucia thought to herself that it was not the question he had intended to put to her. His voice seemed to change as he had spoken. She, at first, found herself rebuking him silently for again bringing up an affair that was not in his place to concern himself. Aside from that, she had hoped that her welfare would not be the subject of persistent inquiry, and she had earlier found herself relieved when it had not. But he had asked her now, and Lucia thought it best to answer.

"The past few days have wearied me. The councils and the concern over the fate of Boldan have weighed heavily upon me and also the last words of the dead Count Okale. I have not spoken of them to you, Percival, but it seemed as though he prophesied against Crimea. All of it has robbed me of rest. But today, I woke at ease. So, put it out of your mind. Rest was all I needed, and rest I took."

It was not entirely a lie, yet Lucia already felt her face warm as the untruth of the matter reached the ears of her friend and student. She had not mentioned how she had forced herself into slumber by the numbing company of draught. If Lucia could work her will, she would never have need to mention it.

"I am glad to hear it," Percival replied. "I and several others had noticed the change in you, but if you owed it to the pressures of your position, then it's not a matter worth mentioning. I only hope for the sake of your health that you learn some balance in your life."

"I will try, but as the queen's protector, I have little time for it." Lucia found a curious thought coming to mind. Though she held no regard for the cautions of Geoffrey, she wondered if, by some careful words, she might silence her brother's worryings once and for all. Silently, she gave herself approval for the question she was about to ask. "But enough of that," she said at length, "since you have asked me of my well-being, I think I have the right to ask something also."

"And what do you want to ask me?"

"I am honored that you should choose me as your tutor. Make no mistake about that. Still, I suppose I do wonder why you, of all the people in Crimea, would want to take up the sword." Percival looked upon her with a pained face. Lucia knew all too well the look he wore, for it was the face of one who is wounded in the heart. At that instant, she wondered if perhaps her plan was folly rather than wise.

"You doubt my intentions as well, Lucia?" he asked.

"Of course not," she answered quickly, "but I do wonder why of all honorable callings, why choose the sword? Do you hope to become a knight?"

"I hardly hope to take on another title. I am already a youth of mockery and contempt because of one title, and I doubt that any other will gain me respect among my peers. As for your question, at first, it seemed strange to me, but I suppose it's a fair one. I asked you to teach me so that I may use _Cybele."_

Lucia turned her head at the mention of the rapier, "I thought it was a family heirloom of yours."

"It is. It was passed down to my father, his father, and his father before him, and before I lived as Ludveck's heir, it was passed down to me."

"Then why would you want to use it in battle? Swordplay takes a heavy toll on the blade."

"I never said I intended to fight with it. I only wish to learn how to use it. My father was a swordsman, and I have no doubt that he would have taught me. But my father is dead, and I have no instructor. Does that satisfy you?"

Lucia nodded. At this, Percival motioned with his hand back to the training circle, but the lady shook her head. She was not yet ready to fight him again. Though she trained herself with many exercises, she felt quite content to rest for the moment. Perhaps, she reasoned that it would aid her to silence further talk over her conduct of late, and so she persisted, "Maybe you should," she mentioned aloud. Percival turned to meet her eyes again.

"Maybe I should do what?" he asked.

"Maybe you should devote yourself to the call of knighthood."

"You must surely jest," the duke answered with a wide smile upon his face. He looked the lady in the eyes until it became apparent to him that she had not spoken in humor. When the realization came upon him, Lucia's face clouded as his smile slowly vanished and became an unpleasant look of fear. "You cannot be serious," said he. "Lucia, I am not about to become a knight. Did you not hear me when I said that one title has given me nothing but trouble? Why should I want another?"

"You have the heart of a knight, and perhaps you may prove yourself to your peers. If they knew you better, then I am sure that they would come to see you differently."

The smile that Percival had earlier worn returned, but it seemed far warmer to Lucia. She thought it very much like the smile of Elincia during the happier days that they had shared before now. It strangely stung the lady to see such a face, for she recalled that, though she had convinced the queen that no trouble had come to her, she had still deceived her. Lucia wondered if she might explain her conduct to her milk-sister on some far-off day when it no longer pained her.

"You are kind," said Percival. "But I shall never enter into knighthood. In the first place, your brother would take charge of me, and of all those who despise me, he is their king." At those words, Lucia rebuked him.

"Geoffrey does not hate you. Friend or not, I will not allow anyone to slander the name of my brother."

"I have no need to slander it, nor do I wish to do so. Forgive me for saying so, Lucia. Still, it is quite true. Tell me this: you know of the garrison that he has left in Felirae?" She nodded and no sooner did her head cease its bobbing that he continued, "Does he tell you how his men behave while they are in my house?"

"He does not."

"Then permit me to tell you. Every morning, I wake to his soldiers roaming about the halls. Every day, I find them sneering at me, and what's more they spy on me. When I open my doors for the people as Elincia does, I am forced to consult them before I may make any judgment. I find them in my quarters, and they all but ransack it. And every night, I go to sleep to the sound of their patrols, and their contempt shares my bed. They look for wrongdoing in every corner, and I have no doubt that they do so on Geoffrey's orders. When I am here, I fear the man himself watches my every step. Forgive me again, if I dishonor his name, but it is the truth."

"He is protective of me," Lucia answered. "As for the state in Felirae, I find it hard to believe. I do not think you would lie about such things, but you speak as if the royal knights carry on like thieves. Many of the men are honorable, and some likely share my brother's fear for me. But if this is true, I shall go to the queen herself and speak for you. Still, I see no reason for you to fear. You have do no wrong, and you had no part in the doings of Ludveck. Even if he sought it, ny brother could not expect to find any proof of ill conduct."

"Then he shall simply claim that he has found it. As long as he can depose me, he will be pleased."

A sudden flash of anger appeared just then in the eyes of the lady. Her hand tightened out of sight of her pupil, but her voice would not be given to discretion. "Now, that, I will not tolerate," Lucia answered with a sharp tongue, though she did not mean to wound the duke with her words. "My brother is watchful over me, yes, but he would not resort to such a thing for the sake of his own satisfaction. If you doubt his honor, then you should know that he can do no such thing. His authority is limited to the royal knights. He has no power over you."

"That shall change, Lucia," he said soberly. "He may be a general now, but in a matter of time, he will make himself a prince. It is inevitable; every man at court can see it. Your brother will be the husband of the queen. Then he will no doubt have me banished. Or perhaps, he will have a noose around my neck as a traitor." At once, Percival's hand leaped to cover his mouth when he heard the words he had spoken. "Forgive me, Lucia," he quickly added. "I did not mean to say such a thing." He continued with word upon word of regret.

Lucia let a soft growl sound in her throat, though she was glad that her companion could not hear it. In her thoughts, she wished to shout at him for carrying on as if she were so fragile. She did not consider herself so vulnerable that to even hear a mention of the fate she faced at Fort Alpea was to be avoided. She had long since tired of those she knew taking great effort with their words to keep her from distress. But she merely closed her eyes and bent her head only slightly, and when she spoke, Lucia showed no sign of what thoughts she held.

"It is quite all right, Percival. You did not speak wrongly. As for what you have said, I think you fear what you have no cause to fear. Geoffrey is not a man given to vengeful notions. He may seem to, but only for my sake. He would not take such action against you, and what's more, even if he were to marry Elincia, she would not allow it. Talking of which, I do not think that my brother will be able to take her as a wife. I have known Geoffrey for far longer than you have, and I have known the queen as well. They would surely find it too strange having known each other since we were children. So, do not fear for yourself."

"Thank you, Lucia. Still, I am sorry for speaking so hastily." With his hand, he motioned to the door, "If you wish, I will leave."

"No, no," she answered. "I think that I am ready to continue our lessons."

Percival stood, and he offered a hand to Lucia. With a slight tint of red in her cheeks, she looked towards the door, before accepting. She wondered if, by chance, Geoffrey was watching them through the door. It seemed closed tightly enough, and so she put the thought aside. Though she said nothing of it to her friend, she had known that her brother did often watch her when he could find a moment to pull himself away from his own duties. She was certain that while he may not seek to avenge himself for her sake, the general might try to dissuade her again if he saw her take his hand. When she stood, Percival released her hand, and they walked back to the training circles.

Taking her mark, Lucia picked up her sword and waited for the duke to take his. When they faced each other once again, Lucia nodded, and Percival did the same. With a cry of battle, the swordswoman charged at him. Their blades clashed together, parted, and then met again. The room filled with the sounds of wood upon wood. On one occasion, the lady hoped to force her opponent's sword from his hand. Yet, Percival's grip was strong, despite his thin stature. The two again came at each other. Each combatant attacked and then parried. Lucia found herself thinking that on this day, she might, at last, be surpassed. She noted that her pupil guarded himself with care. She struck quickly, hoping to force him to lower his defense. He managed to dodge her. Lucia struck again. This time, he held his blade, and their swords met. Percival stepped backwards. Lucia took a step forward.

Lucia struck, and Percival did the same. Their swords met, but did not part. Beads of sweat that had earlier formed upon their brows now slid down their cheeks, and some occasionally trailed into their eyes. They stood still upon their marks, each pushing with what strength they had against the blade of the other. Lucia clenched her teeth as she hoped to force Percival to relent. She saw the duke's hands quiver and falter, but his sword did not give way. Lucia thought much of him as he managed to hold his ground, though she knew he would soon learn the time to withdraw. The lady happened to find herself looking over the shoulder of her opponent, and at once, her eyes widened.

Her eyes fell upon the sight of a man standing by the door. He was garbed in the silver armor of Crimea, and the patterns of gold were laid in the manner of a general. Lucia recognized the vile look upon his face, the face of the Blazing Iron himself. Their eyes met across the room, and then he was gone as if he were some phantom. Lucia gazed upon where Boldan had stood, and in that moment, she allowed the force upon Percival's sword to slacken, though she knew it not. The duke did not notice the distant look of his teacher, and so he continued to push against her blade. Lucia was forced backwards. Her legs blindly stepped about, and the heel of her shoe took hold of a small crevice in the stones of the floor.

Lucia fell.

Her hand released the sword, and she heard it land with a thump on the floor. It sounded very distant to her ears, as were the worried cries of Percival. It seemed to her that she was falling very slowly. The sight of Boldan still lingered in her sight. Lucia closed her eyes so that she would not see him. By instinct, she lifted her head. She felt her body come swiftly to a stop as pain coursed through her back. She knew she had not struck her head, but it was of little comfort to her. Her eyes stayed shut. Her heart thundered like the hooves of maddened horses. Even without sight, Lucia could see him. Boldan still stood unmoving before her, though his form seemed to bend and distort, as if he were becoming another.

At once, Lucia became aware that her body was moving but not of her own will. The Blazing Iron vanished yet again, as she felt a pair of hands upon her. Slowly, her eyes opened to see the fearful face of Percival above her. His hands rested against her shoulder and her back. His voice called to her, and he seemed to be shouting her name. Her head turned, and Lucia looked towards the spot where she had seen Boldan. But the general was not there.

"Lucia," Percival cried, "Lucia, are you hurt?"

"I have to go," the lady mouthed as a terrible thought fell upon her, like the bitter winds to her skin those many nights when she was driven from her bedchamber. Percival took no notice of her mouth slowly moving as she said the words again.

"Lucia," he cried again. With a shake of her head, the lady turned her face towards him.

"I am not dead," she said. "I may be hurt, but it is nothing to concern yourself over. My back will be sore. Now, move away." Her command seemed harsh, and Percival quickly took his hands away. He offered to help her stand. Lucia paid his kindness no mind at all, and she stood, wincing slightly at the twinge of pain as she got to her feet. It soon became a dull ache, though Lucia cared not for it. "I must go," she uttered quickly.

"I am sorry," Percival called out to her. "Please do not leave because of me."

Lucia heard his words, but she did not give a reply. She hurried to the door, though she took care to ensure that he did not see her leave too quickly. She did not even retrieve her fallen weapon. As she opened the door and left the training hall, Lucia continued to mutter, "I have to leave. I have to leave."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Looks like Lucia's resolve just took a pretty big beating. I figured that this is something that you really can't just will away. I'm not an expert in the field of PTSD, but I do figure that sooner or later, Lucia would probably start seeing things even when she's not asleep. I also hope she seemed in character, especially during her little exhange with Percival. I figured that she wouldn't like anyone insulting her brother, no matter who it is. Blood is thicker than water after all.

And yes, you read that right, when I had Percvial say that Geoffrey would become a prince. Now, you may be asking, since he eventually marries Elincia, wouldn't that make him a king. After all, if a king marries a woman, she would be called a queen, so wouldn't the same apply? Actually, no. If a queen by birth marries a man, he would be called a prince because if he were to be called a king, he would outrank her. Case in point, Queen Victoria's husband was called a prince because he have outranked her otherwise.

Anyway, besides all the turkey, I'm thankful to all of you readers. I've always said that it's because of you that this is worth all the effort, and it's still true. So thank you for reading and reviewing. And a special thanks goes to HaveAHeart0301, who continues to beta read for me. I couldn't do it without her.


	7. Chapter VII: The Streets of Melior

**A/N: **Happy New Year, readers. I had hoped to say merry Christmas in this, but clearly I'm a bit late for that. Anyway, here's the next chapter, and I hope you like it.

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><p><strong>Chapter VII: The Streets of Melior<strong>

Down the halls of the palace, Lucia made haste, though she took many cares in the hope that the idling guards and wandering servants found no step too quick and too unusual. She knew that she would have no answer to give were she stopped and questioned as many of them had often done. Her strides were filled with purpose, though it was not with any intent Lucia found at all pleasing. Soon, they would bear her to the gates and then to the streets of Crimea's great city. She did not know where she would go, but she would surely think of something. For the moment, she took even a small amount of comfort when she knew that she often walked as she did now when some errand was required, and it would reflect upon her face to provide a convincing mask, though the lady had grown weary of the necessity to wear one in the presence of those who had not merited such a thing.

Lucia winced with every step, as she felt the pain of her fall, though she gave little thought of it. She thought it best to endure the cryings of her back and be on her way. Yet, a different sort of ache also caused her to cringe as she ran. She found each footfall echoing with the indignant strikes of Percival's rapier as she was certain he now struck at any one of the wooden men she had left him with, and she was even more certain that he held himself at fault for what had happened. It saddened her when she thought of him and that he should consider himself so poorly and for an offense that he had not committed.

Had she known the words, she would not have departed from him as she did. She would have offered some reassurance that he was not at fault, though Lucia knew she would leave. As she went down another hall, Lucia was glad to find no one, and she spoke her thoughts aloud.

"I could not make him understand why I should leave him, or why I must leave at all. He would think that I had gone mad. If Percival would think that of me, I cannot even begin to imagine what Elincia will think."

Lucia halted at the mention of the name of her milk-sister. She had not previously taken consideration of the queen. Surely, her departure would bring to Lucia some ease, but she would purchase it with the pains of her dear friend. Lucia felt a slight warmth as a wayward tear fled from her eye and down her cheek. The lady found it strange to feel the traces of salt upon her skin, for she could not recall the last occasion when she had wept. She had cried tears of joy at the reclaiming of her motherland, but the memory of a tear shed in bitterness was lost to her.

Her hand rose and cast the last remains of the straying drop from her. "I cannot weep," Lucia declared. "I must do this for the sake of my queen. If I can't make sense of this, then how can I stand at her side to protect her? Crimea may be rid of Boldan, but I cannot rid myself of that shadow of his, though I have tried by every craft here in Melior. If I can't find a way here, then I may find it elsewhere. It will wound her, but it is still better to do this thing. But I might be able to lessen the sting even if only for a small bit."

Turning around, the lady forced her steps back until she stood at the ornate twin doors that marked the bedchamber of Crimea's mistress. Lucia first pressed her ear against the smooth surface of the wood so that she might hear the clicking of the queen's shoes if she happened to walk the floor. She frowned when only silence gave its reply, and she strived to listen all the more. She knew not the hour of the day, though she guessed that the day was aging. If the night were drawing near, Elincia would surely have taken leave of the court and readied herself to sleep, and if the queen were unshod, Lucia doubted she would hear any sound at all. She hoped to hear even a soft sigh, but again she heard nothing. Her tongue slightly ventured out of her mouth, for it was as uneasy as Lucia herself. Slowly, she turned the handle and gently pushed the door open.

To her great relief, the queen's chamber was empty, but Lucia knew Elincia would surely come in moments. The lamps about the room were lit, and the lady knew she would have little time. Like the sharp eyes of a hawk, her gaze quickly fell upon the queen's desk. She hurried to the chair before it and sat down. Snatching up a sheet of parchment, Lucia set it upon the wood and took the quill from its small well. For a moment, she pondered the words to write. When she had found them, she made haste with the pen. Lucia lifted up her small note and read it, caring not a thing for the stray marks and wild strokes that she had made, for it was still sufficient for the eye to see.

_My dearest sister, please forgive me, but I must leave your side. I know I've worried you these past few days, and I wish I could speak to you of it. If I could manage it, I would, but I am not even strong enough to hear my own admission. I don't know where I plan to go, perhaps home to Delbray, but I promise that I will return once I sort this matter out. Please tell Geoffrey this as well._

_Lucia_

She laid down the saddened letter and rose sharply, unwilling to linger in her queen's chamber any longer. Her words, however, refused to leave her, and the note gave chase. Lucia growled at its disobedience and quickly placed it upon the desk again before turning to leave. With slight steps, she hurried from the room. Her eyes, however, could not keep themselves from turning back. She did not know why she looked at the small parchment, even as her legs carried her away at the silent urging of fear. Lucia felt her thoughts divide against her. One half hoped to reconsider, to rend the note, and then cast it into the fire so that she might remain at the side of her queen. Yet, Lucia doubted she could manage to do so any longer, and so she continued.

Lucia looked back once again as she crossed the doorway. She did not hear the soft sound of nearing footfalls, and as she stepped through, the lady felt herself collide with another. Lucia stumbled back, and several pieces of fabric fell lightly to the floor. At first, she feared she had encountered Queen Elincia herself, but as she turned her head to meet the one she had struck, Lucia sighed when she saw it was but one of the servant girls bearing an armful of bedclothes. She was a girl of slight stature and a tender age of fifteen. Lucia knew her by her dark hair and dotted face as Beth, the most favored of her milk-sister's maids.

"Begging your pardon, milady," the girl said in the accent of her home when she saw who it was that had struck her. She quickly stooped to retrieve her fallen load. "I'm sorry I wasn't watching."

"No, no," Lucia answered with no tone at all as she likewise bent to gather the queen's sheets. The lady had often felt as a kindred spirit to Beth. Both had served the queen in part of love and in part of duty. She recalled when the girl had first come to Melior in payment of her father's debts to Elincia's father in the time after the Mad King's War, and over the course of the years, she had grown to love the queen. However, Lucia now wished that some other servant had seen her, for Beth was a girl prone to idle speech. She would surely tell the queen that she had seen her. With urgency, the lady thrust an armful of the scattered linens toward the maid.

Beth withdrew in surprise and almost dropped her load once again. "If you don't mind, my asking," she began, "is there something ailing you, milady?"

"Why would you think that?" Lucia replied, as she felt a familiar and unwanted tightness around her neck. Her hand, of its own accord, came to rest upon the flesh of her throat. Though Lucia could look into the faces of war and her own nearing death, she felt more fear looking into the face of this young girl than she could ever recall.

"You don't seem to be yourself, Lady Lucia," Beth remarked, "and you look as though you've got a fever; your cheeks are all red. Should I go fetch someone; a healer or even the queen?"

"No," the swordswoman answered with a harsh voice. The maid drew back again, for she had never known Lucia to speak so sternly. "No, "she said again, softening her voice. "I am well. As for my appearance, I suppose I am not myself. These days have passed with some difficulty, especially with all of the nobles here in the palace. Don't concern yourself over me."

"Ah, I'm sorry, milady." Lucia began to tire of the constant addressing, though she knew that it was proper for Beth to speak in so formal a manner. "You and the queen have been good to me, so I can't help but want to do good to you. If you don't mind the asking again, what were you doing in the queen's room?" At once, Lucia felt her skin grow hot again.

"I was…" she felt her thoughts take their leave of her as she stood still just outside the doorway. She had passed by wandering soldiers who would have likely cause to stop her, and this young maid. She thought of how she had once looked into the eyes of a man of great power, and she had spoken untruths without a hesitation. Yet now, she could think of no answer to the questioning of a lesser girl. "I was...I was only leaving a report for the queen to read later." Lucia wondered if Beth would believe it. The lady greatly doubted that she would accept such an answer; Lucia would not if she were the maid.

Slowly, Lucia passed the girl, and Beth meekly stepped aside. The lady took a single step, and the servant did not call out. Lucia looked back to see her entering the queen's chamber to go about her work. The lady smiled as she took another step, and no voice called for her. Her face brightened with a darker thought that she would not be found out. She took a third step and then a fourth. Lucia felt at ease, and she smiled with a satisfaction that she knew she should not take. Just then, she heard a shout from the royal quarters.

"Milady!" the maid called out. All at once, the lady felt her back grow stiff, and her legs turned to stone where she stood. Slowly, she brought her eyes back from where she had come, and she saw Beth standing just outside the queen's door with the letter in her hand. "Milady," she said again, "what is this?"

Lucia felt her legs turn into flesh and bone once more, and without a moment's hesitation, she ran.

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><p>Lucia sped away from the queen's chambers and the echoing of Beth's voice without thought concerning where she would go, and she was glad when she could no longer hear the maid. She did not ease, even as she passed other household servants and the palace guards. She did not wait to see them cast glances of confusion at the sight of a woman of her age running about as though she were a child. She did not halt when they called to her as she ran by. The only thought Lucia held was to flee, as though she would pay with her life should she stop or slow. The palace seemed all a blur to her eyes. Though her quick pace would surely cause one to lose track of their steps, the lady knew the royal house by heart. It gladdened her, even in the slightest, that she had learned each turn and stairway of the palace. She also took a slight comfort, though she knew it to be rather wicked, that the greatness of the castle would give her ample time to depart before Beth could find her mistress.<p>

She found herself at the doorway leading into the castle gardens, and only then did Lucia slow herself. She looked to her left, and then quickly to the right. Her first thought was to throw open the door and run as she had only previously. When she opened it, however, Lucia looked out at a sight she did not expect.

Down in the garden waited at least five and seventy fighting men, she did not count the attendants who bore the tents and supplies. She counted many horsemen, a good number of infantrymen, and a fair number of archers. Peeking out from around the door, she spotted Duke Horace of Canteus himself with Kieran and the duke's armor-bearer at the side. The nobleman appeared to speak to the soldier, though Lucia could not tell what he might have said. She watched Horace mount his horse, and Kieran did the same. They were soon to depart for the east, as the lord had surely promised.

Lucia quickly closed the door so that she might not be seen. She found it amusing that the duke had managed to assemble his force so quickly, despite the prediction of Lord Percival. His count was not high, but she could not believe he had found a single man able to march or ride so soon after their return. She did not dwell long on the thought. She allowed herself a moment to rest before taking flight once more. She thought she could reach the rear gates and slip out of the castle. Again, she hurried through the halls and corridors, stopping and changing her course only if she found the need. Once or twice, she thought she had heard the voices of Geoffrey and the queen, and she made every effort she could manage to dodge them, even though she knew not if they were truly there.

When she had reached the rear gate, Lucia thought she could run no longer. By now, her throat desired a cooling drink, and her breath felt utterly spent. Thinking that she could slacken her pace, the lady stepped through the gate, and ran only a short distance around the outer wall, until she was certain she had found a place where not a man would see her.

She let herself sit upon the ground with her back against the stone wall. Her hand fell upon her chest to feel her heart, still beating with violence within her, as though it, likewise, ran wildly away from some unseen pursuer. Lucia wiped her brow and breathed heavily of the cold winter air, despite its sting within her nose. She had run, and now she knew the time had come not to fly but rather to ponder what she might do. Sitting under the shadow of the palace wall, the lady felt an anger towards the maid rising within her heart that overpowered what fear remained.

"I should have that girl whipped for looking into matters that don't concern her," Lucia said through shallow breaths as she hoped to recover her strength before setting off. "Why did she have to read it?" She asked the air. "In the days of the kings of old, a servant would never look into the affairs of their ruler or his court. Now, this simple country girl has spread the news all over my milk-sister's house. Or," she added, as the thought of the queen appeared in view of her ill will, "perhaps, I blame the wrong person. It was not her fault that she learned to read. If only Queen Elincia didn't insist on becoming her tutor rather than only her mistress, she would not even be able to read my note."

Lucia, at that very instant, deeply rued the words of ire she had spoken. The lady knew she had not meant even a single letter that she had allowed to leave her mouth. Her head hung downcast as she wiped yet another tear from her eye and lightly kicked at the ground. Lucia closed her eyes as she thought of the two women she had chastised, and their faces appeared in the darkness.

"I should not think such things of Elincia or Beth," she whispered. "Neither deserves any blame for this, although Beth should learn to mind her own affairs. I've never seen a servant girl so quick to pry, although I suppose it comes from excitement at learning to read. And as for the queen, she is far better than any of the old kings. She's walked among her people, and so she hopes to give them aid. No, they don't deserve the blame," she said slowly, as she thought of he whom she held at fault. Lucia's eyes narrowed, her shoulders grew taut, and her mouth twisted into an angered sneer.

"It's all Boldan's doing. It wasn't enough for him to harm me in the rebellion. It wasn't enough for him to haunt my dreams. No, now, he even has to do this to me!" Lucia spat her words as she continued to sit in uneasy contemplation. "But why does it happen now? Why do I continue to suffer long after Ludveck's defeat and the man himself is gone? If I could answer that, perhaps I wouldn't have to leave the side of my queen. But it is better if I do. Can I stand beside her if even the Iron has twisted her in my dreams?" Lucia knew not why she asked such things of herself, though she was glad to have spoken aloud. "I've tried, and I cannot," she added with saddened resignation.

The lady opened her eyes and looked skyward. The sun was, by now, near the end of its unending journey into the west, though it was not yet nightfall. The castle walls were still agleam with the gold of a soft twilight. On the horizon, however, Lucia spotted what looked to be gathering clouds of a rather dark sort as they spread, like a somber veil, over the west. She could not say whether they would cover the queen's house this coming night or what they might bring, either rain or snow, but she thought it best that she depart quickly. Standing, Lucia let her hand fall to her side where her sword would hang from her belt. But she did not feel the scabbard beneath her palm, nor did her fingers find a sword to grasp. She stood in baffled wonder, trying to recall when she last had it.

She thought back to the sparring session not long ended, and she knew she did not take her sword into the training hall. She did not remember even tying it to her belt that morning. What could she have done with it? Lucia sighed with displeasure when she recalled that she had left the blade in her quarters, thinking that she would have no need of it this day. She had risen from her bed, clothed herself, took the morning meal, and attended the council. She shook her head at such a careless blunder.

From the west, the clouds let out a chilling roar, and Lucia's arms quickly embraced her, though she felt the biting wind even through her clothing. All the while, she continued to silently rebuke herself for the rash departure. Had she thought better of the deed, Lucia would have brought her sword, a cloak, and a few days worth of food at the very least. She had not even filled a purse with gold.

"It seems as though you've made quite the fool of yourself, Lucia," she quipped, forcing a feeble smile. At first, she thought over simply returning to the palace and begging the forgiveness and perhaps the indulgence of Queen Elincia. If she did, she would surely undo all that she had done. It was only when another cold howl form the surly-looking clouds chilled her again that the swordswoman realized a terrible truth that caused her to shiver all the more.

"I cannot go back now," Lucia declared, bowing her head again. "My sister may let this pass, but surely the other nobles will not. And who knows if this can be kept from them. Gallabar is a coward, and Bastian is far too smitten to raise any charge, but others may waste no time to name me a deserter. At best, I could face a sound lashing for this offense. At worst, I've heard of men hanged for abandoning their posts. No, I cannot go back, even to Elincia. I can't allow her to make a choice more difficult than that of Fort Alpea. It was the future of her kingdom for my life then, and now it is the law of her kingdom for my life."

And so Lucia rose, but she did not leave the place she had come to rest. The creaking of the palace gates reached her ears. The fighting men were soon to depart. For a moment, she heard only a tense silence, and the lady pressed herself firmly against the wall, hoping that not one of them would pass by. The thundering of hooves soon followed, and Lucia dared to creep towards the front gate. She arrived to watch the last of the soldiers running to keep pace with the horsemen as the large company headed eastward.

"I can be thankful that they didn't come this way," she uttered. "They have gone their way, but now where shall I go?" Lucia gazed into the darkening skies of the east, towards the familiar places she had once called home. "My father would gladly take me in, if I could make it over the mountains and to Delbray. But I have no supplies and no clothing to make the climb; the only thing I would accomplish then is to put myself in my grave. And even if the mountain didn't kill me, I would surely be found by the men, and I don't expect it would be any different."

Lucia then turned her eyes towards the west, where the clouds continued to gather. Though they covered the sky and the land in saddening shades, and the winds continued to herald the arrival of shadow and storm, she could still spy the golden lances that the sun sent forth even in the waning hours of evening.

"Perhaps in troubles, I can find the answer, just as I can find the sun even in the storm clouds. Perhaps out there, I may find a way to ease my restless dreams. It is only a three day journey to the mercenary fort, and I'm sure Ike would not turn me away. There are also a number of villages in the west that would surely give me shelter on my way. Besides, once Elincia reads my letter, she will send Geoffrey and his men to find me, and they will likely think that I've gone to my father's house. But I will go another way. I will go west."

And the lady set her feet on the course she had chosen, into the city of Melior and far beyond it.

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><p>Lucia looked all about as she walked the streets of Crimea's capital. The market roads were laid in brown stone, and the departing sun painted them a most pleasing color. She kept her eyes fixed upon the somber veil before her eyes, where she thought she may find her refuge. She knew all too well that she must quickly leave Melior, yet she could not help but look upon the people of her country as they roamed here and there. All about the lady, men stood with their friends, exchanging the latest tales from the country. Many groups of woman did the same, and children scurried wildly in the merriment of their age. Lucia smiled as she watched them, though a great longing filled her eyes as she beheld the young ones. How she wished that she could be a child once more, if only to delay the coming of her station, and the many cares that had followed her since.<p>

The people took little notice of Lucia, for she was as the queen herself. Often did Elincia walk the streets of her city, and equally often, she did so against the counsel of her advisors, even Lord Renning himself. But she thought herself as the sun; common in its coming but bringing warmth and light. Lucia, however, found herself very much unlike her queen on this day. On this day, she held no warmth in her eyes and no light in her spirit.

Her gaze was drawn once more to the clouds, which seemed closer by now. Certainly they would come upon the house of the queen, and they would surely bring snow and storm to Crimea. It was likely to the lady that the west had already seen such things by now. As she turned away, she again noticed the citizens going about their business. Even at this late hour, a few peddlers called out to sell their wares, and the people still came to buy. A stray lad playfully ran through the street and struck Lucia in the leg before hurrying past her. He had said nothing, though she did count it in wrongdoing.

She watched as the boy merely ran away, and soon after she saw other children joining in the cheerful hunt. She did not know why, but she felt a sense of sadness for the people she saw as the clouds drew nearer.

"Was it the same when the armies of Daein attacked?" she wondered in a soft tone. "Did they only realize what was happening when it was too late? Even now, a storm comes, and they do nothing." Lucia shook her head as another biting gust pierced through her clothing. Her fingertips felt the goose flesh on her shoulders, and she thought it best that she lingered no longer. The need of provision had tipped the scale against the need to depart, and so she continued on through the streets.

When she came upon the blacksmith's shop on the south and eastern side of the city, she entered, hoping she might obtain a sword. The swelter of the forge fell like a great wave over her as she stepped inside, and for the slightest of moments, Lucia thought she might fall as she swayed in its wake. It was not at all a comforting warmth, such as that from a fireplace, but it felt rather as the harsh desert sun when Lucia fought alongside the men in the last war. The smell of burning coals mingled with the odor of labor and sweat and were not pleasing in the least, and Lucia wrinkled her nose as she walked down the few steps in the smithy's workshop.

Over his anvil, the blacksmith, tall, well-built and bare-armed, though with a graying head, stood with hammer in one hand and tongs holding a piece of hot iron in the other. He seemed to pay Lucia no mind as he toiled in the unyielding heat, for it was the way of his life. She looked for an apprentice, and when she saw he had none, she thought to leave. She was certain that Elincia had heard of her departure by now. But when she considered that she might encounter those of unsavory temperaments upon the road, she waited.

Again and again, his hammer rose and fell, and a deafening clang filled the shop. Lucia wondered if her ears would bleed with every stroke. She found herself wincing with every blow upon the glowing bar. Her shoulders tightened with twinges of a great pain as she watched the smithy, for she thought of when such blows were brought upon her and when she knew the heat of iron. Her first urge was to run quickly away, but she willed her legs to remain still, like the roots of the tallest trees.

The smith removed the glowing iron, now curved and twisted into the shape of a horse's shoe, and dipped it into a nearby barrel to cool. Lucia sighed with happiness as she heard the hiss and the wisps of steam rose from the water.

At last, she called out, "Blacksmith!" He looked up from his work, and when he saw the lady, he hurriedly wiped his hands upon his leather apron before producing a cloth from his pocket to clean the sweat from his brow.

"Good lady," he said, "I wish I had known you would come; I might have made myself presentable. Here I am, hot and dripping, and someone from the queen's house comes through my door." He held his arms wide. "I am Harold, Lady Lucia, and my shop is at your service."

"And I am in need of your service, though before I go on, swear that you have not seen me."

"That I have not seen you?" Harold repeated with a raise of his eyebrow. "My lady, do you tease me? I didn't think you were the sort to make sport of men."

"I am not at all in a teasing mood, sir," Lucia answered.

"Then why would I say that I have not seen you? You must have some reason."

"I do, but my reasons are my own. Now, please, I have need of you, but if you will not agree to my terms, then I will go elsewhere."

"It sounds like queer business to me," remarked the smith, wiping his hands again and tilting his head.

"Please, sir, if anyone should come and ask of me, you have not seen me. Agree to that, and I will tell you what business I have with you."

"All right, my lady, I swear that I have not seen you, and I will tell anyone who comes to my shop the same. It still sounds like queer business. But I suppose I would go hungry if I turned anyone away. So, what is it you want, my lady?

"I need a sword, sir," Lucia replied.

"I was wondering about that. Old Harold may use his arms quite a bit, but he didn't get here without good eyes. I noticed your empty scabbard there," said he with a point towards Lucia's belt, "and I thought to myself, why would a woman who watches over the queen go somewhere with her scabbard but no sword." He gestured to a barrel behind him filled with many blades. "You can have your pick, my lady, if it's a sword you need. I've got blades in iron or steel, and they're plenty sharp too."

Lucia strode quickly to the barrel and hastily select a sword of wrought iron. She looked upon its plain blade, though she did spy a simple emblem, the letter of his name, etched just below the hilt. "This will do," she said, placing the blade in her scabbard. "I thank you, sir."

"Well, you're quite welcome, my lady, but I don't eat on thanks. Now, that will be five coins for that sword, and I don't intend to let you leave my shop until you pay it."

"And what if I told you I was on the queen's business." Harold only shook his head in disapproval.

"Look here, my lady, I've done quite a bit of work for the queen before. Once or twice, Her Majesty herself came here to hire me. I told her this, and now I'm going to tell you. I don't offer credit to anyone, not even the queen's house. If I let any man walk out of here with my wares and only a promise, I'd likely be a starving man. So, either you pay me or you put that sword back."

"I'm afraid I have no money, but I can promise that you that my debt will be paid. If you will agree to this, I will give you my word that Queen Elincia's house will pay what its members owe." Harold did not answer, and Lucia feared that he would not only insist on the return of his labors but also persist in questioning her, for he was known as a man of a willful disposition.

"Well," he said with a consenting sigh, "I don't know. The queen has always been an honest one, even if it's against my good sense. This whole thing seems too strange for me, but I suppose I could make an allowance this one time. Don't you go telling anyone I did though; Old Harold has never been cheated, and he never will. And you be sure to pay me."

"I will see that it is done. Do you have parchment and ink?" Lucia asked.

"I do, but I don't have much use for it. My son and apprentice usually writes for me, but he's gone home already. I can read all right, but I never did learn to write so well. Anyway, it's over there on the shelf," he said pointing off to his left. Lucia went and fetched it and set to writing her promise to repay. And when she had penned the note, she handed it to Harold for him to read.

_I, Lucia of Delbray, in recognition of my debt to the blacksmith, Harold of Melior do hereby agree to pay him back the sum of five coins within three days time. If I do not, he may present this note before the eyes of the queen and claim the payment he is due._

"I suppose this will do, my lady," he said with a nod, "though there are a few long words for a simple smithy."

"I thank you, sir," Lucia replied, nodding as well. "I must be off now." Then she left, and she started back towards the marketplace from where she had come.

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><p>Lucia hoped that the steps she took were not taken in vain as she passed the houses and small shops on her way. The winds blew with harsh roars as they served to proclaim the coming of winter's chill as they had those nights ago when the lady stood upon the balcony. As she shivered against their unending message, Lucia ran with greater speed so that she might meet the clothing traders and merchants to purchase even a simple wrap for her shoulders, a few provisions, and perhaps a bedroll before they retired to their homes or any of the inns for the night.<p>

"It would not surprise me to reach the market and find them all gone," she remarked sourly as she went along the northbound streets. She looked over the small houses to see the clouds drawing ever closer and added, "It isn't even fit for livestock, let alone men." Even with that thought, she continued on. If not for the sake of necessity, Lucia doubted she would have remained this long under the shadow of the royal house.

When the silence of the earthen streets turned to the clicking of stone in her ears, Lucia was gladdened, for only the market quarter was clothed in such a way. She had often wondered, as she was sure many had, of the reason for this. While Melior was built of simple homes and unclad streets, unlike the opulent manors and marble streets of Sienne, its marketplace was paved with stones of many colors of gray and brown. As she entered, Lucia lifted her eyes, and at once her heart fell within her chest.

Not a single merchant remained in the district. The booths and stalls of the peddlers laid empty, as the wind tore at the canvas roofs, hoping to carry them wherever it blew. The few people she could see were little more than lingering citizens who she supposed were delayed as she was.

"I may freeze then," she said with a forlorn voice. "Or worse, I may be found. I've waited far too long as it is. Oh, Elincia, what will you do if they bring me back?" She looked over again into the west, and she sighed, unsure of why she did, but it brought her some ease to do even that much. "Perhaps, I can still find shelter and food in one of the neighboring villagers," she said if only to tell herself again, "I'm sure they would not turn me away. But I will never know if I am caught."

Just before she could leave, Lucia heard the sound of hoof beats, not far from where she stood. They came from the east, and she wondered if one of the soldiers had doubled back. Wasting not a single moment, she hid herself behind a lonely booth, glad for its meager company. Slowly, she dared to look at who might come to the marketplace at this late hour and upon a horse for that matter as the sounds came closer and stopped.

It was only Astrid, likely going about her duties before she would shut herself in. It pleased Lucia to see the rider well once more. It had taken an entire day under the watchful care of the healers before her wounds were healed and cleansed and her bones were made whole. Yet, it also aroused an ill feeling of envy within the lady.

"I wish what magic that could mend her body could also mend whatever troubles fill my mind," she lamented. "Can a healer's staff not even sooth a troubled soul? I would think that it would, if it could bring bone together. Why should she be so fortunate? Is liquor all that can bring me rest? If it is, I may owe Makalov even the slightest of apologies, though he would not deserve such a thing."

Again, she could only reprimand herself for entertaining those dishonorable thoughts towards a woman who had returned from war with her very life. Concerning the idling knight, she did not hold herself at fault for it was indeed true. When she heard the clopping of Astrid's horse fading away as the rider went on her way, Lucia rose from her hiding place.

She turned towards the western road, but as she did, she spotted a man across the way. He was clad in a breastplate and helm of cast silver, for it was the color of the fighting men of Crimea. Lucia felt her legs turn again to stone as she laid eyes upon him. He stood in place, as their eyes met. The lady felt her heart galloping wildly within her chest. Was he of flesh and bone? Was he merely some image conjured forth from a troubled thought? She did not know. If he was truly a man, was he on the side of the crown or on the side of the traitor? She could not say. Though she could not tell, he was one of the watchmen of the city.

The man began to approach her. Closer and closer he drew, and Lucia's eyes darted about, as though she were a cornered deer in the snare of a hunter. No one stood in watch over the western street. Nearer and nearer, the soldier came. He stood at least fifteen steps away. No one lurked to impede her flight. Ten steps now separated the frightened woman and the fighting man. Despite the winds, a warm bead of sweat trickled down Lucia's brow. Only five steps now remained.

"Lady Lucia," the man called out. "What brings you out here?"

Lucia did not answer. She instead turned on her heels and fled down the road. She did not slow, even when she realized that she had no pursuer. Onward she ran, as she did through her sister's house, through the streets of the city. When her legs could endure their use no longer, she turned to the left and threw open the only unlatched door she could find.

Entering, she hurriedly shut the door behind her, and turned around to place her weight upon it. If the man had chased her, she doubted that she could hold the door, but she would make the attempt at the very least. Lucia thought she might at least take her rest before moving on, if she were not siezed. For the slightest of instances, she thought she had seen a room filled with tables and chairs and heard the sounds of idle merriment. She could not be certain as she braced her hands against the wood. But to her great surprise, the voice of a woman came from behind her, a voice that she knew quite well.

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><p><strong>AN:** Cliffhanger. Don't worry, you'll find out who it was next chapter, which should hopefully get done sooner. I know I keep saying that, but one day it just might be true. I hope that didn't seem to OOC for Lucia to just up and leave, not to mention how mean she seemed when she was alone. I figure that everything she's been through would probably still be eating at her, and I imagine that would take a toll. Of course, I'm not a psychologist. Still, she's had some tough pills to swallow. For the record, not all my OCs need to be kept track of. Case in point, Harold. I just named him because I thought it would be easier in dialouge.

I'd like to thank everyone who has read and continues to read. Your support means so much to me. I hope all of you continue to enjoy this story or at least I hope you'd be able to tell me if you didn't. And of course, special thanks go to HaveAHeart0301 for her invaluable beta'ing. I sometimes wonder how I write so much and how she is able to read it, and I'm very grateful for it.


	8. Chapter VIII: Faces in the Dark

**A/N:** So, it's been a little longer than I would have liked, but it's finally here. I had hoped to get this posted by the time _Awakening_ hit the shelves, but, as you can see, that didn't happen. Anyway, here is the next chapter of the story, and I hope you like it. You'll finally get the answer to the question that's probably been eating away at you since the last chapter.

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><p><strong>Chapter VIII: Faces in the Dark<strong>

"Lucia, what brings you here?" the voice inquired. The lady did not allow her hands to leave the door, nor did she ease her weight upon it. "Are you going to answer?" her questioner asked, at length. It was the voice of Calill that spoke to her, but still Lucia did not turn. She gave no answer, and she found it curious that not a single sound reached her ear. Supposing that the man who had given chase, if he had truly been a man, had, by now, abandoned his pursuit, Lucia slackened her back. Her hands slowly slid down the carved surface of the wood and permitted her to remove them.

The lady turned to meet the face of Calill herself, carrying an empty tray beneath her arm. Glancing beyond the magician and innkeeper, Lucia looked upon the tables of the pub and the many soldiers seated before them, likely those, she reasoned, who had only returned upon the previous day from the east and whom Duke Horace could not persuade to take up arms with him. At the very back of the room stood the counter with Calill's husband Largo, as Lucia expected, behind it, fetching bottle and stein for his thirsty guests, and it still came to the great surprise of the lady that he could do this work with only one arm. Above Lucia's head, three soldiers peered down from the railings, no doubt on their way to their sleeping quarters, and every face seemed fixed upon her.

No man consumed drink or food. No man let his coin fall to the table for the games of chance. No man could speak to the woman he had brought to the inn, if he had such fortune. No voices lifted, and no idle laughter sounded. The mouths of the tavern had fallen mute, but the eyes could only look towards the door and stare at she who had entered. Lucia could only shrink beneath their looks of curiosity. Her hands clasped meekly, but she did not lower her head before them. All the while, she silently cursed herself for the careless flight that had led her here.

Calill turned to her patrons, "It's Lady Lucia, so it must mean she's here on palace business. Go on back to your ales." The soldiers did so, but the voice in the air remained silenced. The once-wandering magician looked back upon the lady, placed one hand upon her hip, and a rather mischievous curiosity shown in her bright eyes of blue as she met Lucia's gaze. Calill's mouth spread into a slight grin of very much the same look as Lucia saw in her eyes. "I don't see you around here very much," she commented, "what brings you to my namesake?"

She referred to the inn as such for the sign hanging over her door bore her name at her insistence, although it also bore the name of General Ike at that of her husband. While Lucia could often think upon the quarrel with much amusement, she found nothing of the sort on this day. And when Calill put the question again to her, Lucia did not know what answer she might give. She had not meant to come here, even to hide, and she found it quite puzzling that she had, by only chance, fled into her inn. She wondered if she should, perhaps, give assent to Calill's proclamation that she was on the queen's business, but she could not think of any affair that would cause her to come to this place.

The magician did not wait for a reply. She instead took Lucia by the hand. At once, the lady saw the heavy fog that had fallen over her lifting. "I cannot stay," she said as the magician led her among the tables and passed the soldiers who had again begun their cheery merrymaking.

"Oh, I'm sure you could spare even a short talk. You hardly ever come here, and I hardly ever have the time to come to the castle. Besides, you can consider this a delayed victory celebration. You never did attend that little party I threw when Queen Elincia had Duke Ludveck locked up."

"We were on the verge of war with Begnion," Lucia answered. "I didn't think I would have the time for making merry, and the queen certainly did not."

"Well then, you can take this as a chance to see what you missed. Besides, I would be glad to have another lady of some sophistication here so we can have a nice talk. You certainly have more breeding than the men." Lucia giggled, a soft and hollow sound, at the statement. While she was a woman of esteemed blood and indeed conducted herself as one, she wondered what her hostess might say if she had seen her in her childhood days when she was quite unruly. "What's so funny?" she asked, taking note of her slight laughter.

"Oh, it's nothing," the swordswoman replied. "I was just thinking about the better days I've had."

"That is something I never thought I would hear you say. You talk as if you're an old woman." Calill remarked as she escorted Lucia to a lonely table in the corner, near the stairway. "I wish I could give you a better place to sit, but, as you can see, victory seems to bring in the fighting men. Then again, I suppose defeat would do the same."

"I imagine you're quite right. Men seem to drink no matter the occasion, good or ill." Calill nodded and set her tray down upon the table before pulling out the simple wooden chair, and she held her hand towards it in simple indication. Lucia politely raised her hand and shook her head. "I've said it already; I cannot stay."

"Oh, come now," Calill replied, lowering her voice. "I know you're not here on any affairs of the queen. You came running in as if it were for you very life, and you caused quite a stir in all my customers as well. I'd be very interested to hear all about it. So, please sit."

With a sigh of concession, Lucia did indeed sit, and she noticed a rather triumphant smile upon the face of her hostess. Behind her face, Lucia thought that Calill celebrated far too hastily. The lady doubted that she would have accepted so readily if her thoughts had not held such troubling matters. She was, however, glad to sit in a chair rather than upon the cold ground. Calill retrieved her tray and held it again beneath her arm.

"So, shall I bring you something?" the innkeeper asked. "I don't think you're very partial to ale or beer, but we do have some bottles of fine wine that should please a proper palate. They're very good years as well. Shall I open one for you?"

"No, no liquor," Lucia answered with a strange firmness. To say that her reply caught her hostess by surprise was hardly adequate, so Lucia thought, for she wrinkled her nose in right confusion at such a voice. The lady thought with unhappy remembrance at the taste of strong drink, though it was hardly the sweeter fruit of the vineyards, which she had often enjoyed. Still, she did not think it best to sample even those wares at the moment.

"Well, if you don't want any sort of strong drink, then would you care for tea? I can have a kettle on the fire in little time."

"No, but I thank you for the offer."

"You can't just sit there," said Calill. "Are you hungry? We don't have much on account of them," she gestured with her thumb to the horde of men behind her who now grew louder and louder as the spirit of the occasion settled yet again upon the pub and inn, "but we do have a fair amount of food. Let's see, I believe I have some cold chicken, sausage, bread, pickle, and some cheese, I think. We also have a few greens left over from the farming seasons. Or if you prefer, I can have a few eggs prepared for you."

"I have no money," Lucia answered with another sad shake of her head.

"So, all you want to do is to simply sit there and look as if the kingdom were about to come crashing down on your head? That seems not at all like you, Lady Lucia."

"I said nothing of the sort. If I appear at all at unease, it is likely due to tending to the queen's affairs. I cannot stay for food or drink. I have told you twice, now, Calill, I cannot stay here, at least not for long, and even if I could, I cannot afford as much as a crumb."

"Well, then stay for a short time. You may change your mind later, and I wouldn't take any money from you. Besides, as I said, I would like to have another woman with some proper breeding to talk to instead of a pack of drinking, leering boors." As if to offer an affirmation to her words, the soldiers took notice of Calill and began to call to her.

"Innkeeper," one man shouted. "Bring me another ale! I've been fighting for days, and now, I've such a thirst."

"Bring me a plate," another said. "I've been fighting for days, and I've had nothing but hard waybread and gruel. I have such a hunger for meat."

"Do you take on any women who look as lovely as you?" a third called out. "I've been fighting for days, and I've never seen a woman like you before."

"I can give you drink and food, but if you think that my inn, a place that bears my name, provides women for your amusement, then you are very mistaken," the magician called back. "We may serve strong brew, but we still have some dignity. If you find _The_ _Calill_ not to your satisfaction, then you had best be on your way."

"I didn't mean anything that coarse," the rebuked soldier answered back. "I just wanted to lay my eye on someone."

Lucia rose slightly to whisper to her hostess, "If you would dress with a bit more modesty, perhaps they would not be so encouraged." Lucia's eye fell to the slits in the magician's dress that allowed all to catch a glimpse of her shapely legs, surely meant to flatter the wearer.

"I don't mind them," Calill whispered in response. "They know better than to get too many notions about me since they all know I'm a married woman. And Largo doesn't mind me showing a little skin every now and then. Beauty, especially in such a delectable package, wasn't meant to hide, after all. You should take that bit of advice, Lady Lucia." The lady could not help but allow her cheeks to turn the slightest tint of red at her remark. "What's more," she added, "if they get too unruly, they know that they'll be walking out of here with a good burn. I haven't forgotten a thing about the magic arts after all. I'm as good as three of your palace mages."

"Yes, yes, you could teach every acolyte from here to Begnion, and then you could teach their acolytes as well," Lucia said with a feeble wave of her hand. She wondered if the woman standing before her would realize the tone was not at all in praise of her, for she knew Calill to often offer more lauds for herself than all those who had seen and tasted the might of any spell she knew.

Her hostess opened her mouth to speak, but the voices of the fighting men soon rose up anew and much louder. Lucia also spotted Largo pointing at the steins filled with beer he had set upon the bar.

"It's a wonder why Queen Elincia hasn't asked me to come to the palace and teach the hopefuls," she commented with a smile of vanity. "I'll just leave you here, but I won't take long. Then we can have that little talk."

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><p>Lucia leaned back into the chair as her hostess left her side, wincing as the pains of the sparring match, still fresh, upon her skin cried out in objection to the hard wood. "It shouldn't surprise me if I have a bruise the size of Largo's fist," she commented. "If I were not forced to run, I would have had a soothing ointment brought for me. But I can find no balm for the pains I feel," she added with a heavy voice, recalling that which had drove her from her home. "I must learn to endure them, but I cannot do that at the side of my queen." She turned her eyes towards the room, and she spied Calill going from table to table with her back to the corner in which the lady sat. "I can go, now, and she would not even realize it," she said, noting the disorder that prevailed over even the sounds of her thoughts.<p>

She began to rise, but as she did, she realized that not a man had looked upon her as if they did not think to notice her. Lucia found herself glad of the occasion to rest and regain her breath. She did not come as a frequenter to _The Calill_, and she found such a lonely table a far better hiding place than the field and meadowland beyond the edge of the city. With this thought, she sat down once more.

She soon found the biting affliction in her back settling into a rather dull ache, and this pleased her, though only in the slightest. Lucia again watched her hostess as she went about her business, unable to fade into the numerous silver helms that littered the room. Calill was far too prone to all such notions of pride to allow herself to vanish as any simple barmaid might do. The lady, however, was quite content to disappear as she sat in the quiet company of solitude.

She had often feared such fellowship during these days of late. It was in solitude that her faces returned to haunt her. She recalled the flaming face meeting her eyes in the torchlight those four nights ago, when the troubles of the mind had grown wild like the weeds in the village fields. Would she have seen that phantom burning in the hot oranges of fire if Percival had offered to accompany her on her lonely walk back to her quarters? If she had entered the room of her milk-sister, what might have occurred? Perhaps the queen would have offered her bed to Lucia as the lady herself had often done when she and Elincia were but tender girls, and the young princess found herself anxious from the nightly noises. Yes, she now found the company of no one a very poor companion indeed.

Though such loneliness was hardly a boon comrade, Lucia found the presence of others far worse. She found it better, in these times when her heart felt such troubles, to seek out the company of no one. For though solitude seemed to summon her many ghosts to again torment her, companionship seemed to bring to the lady things that were far, far worse.

She only had to close her eyes, and she saw in the darkness the faces of all those whom she had wronged during these past four days. Looking upon her, she beheld the faces of her queen, her brother, her friends, and her companions-in-arms. She again saw the fearful face of Elincia as she fled from her presence that day in the library. Lucia sighed with a shuddering breath as she thought of the queen, by now for certain, upon her knees weeping with the deserter's words clutched to her chest.

She saw the face of Geoffrey, always composed and yet with undeniable and grave concern burning through his eyes, threatening to melt away the noble mask he often wore. He would surely have the host of men under his authority racing about the countryside in a mad search. The faces of Percival, whom she had left to his own unmerited chastisement and Beth, about whom she had earlier held such ill thoughts, she saw also. Even Count Bastian, himself, appeared before her unopened eyes, though she could not think of any occasion when she had committed any offense against him. Beyond him stood countless others, soldier and servant alike, whom she had given a sharp reply when they asked simple questions of her. Each one bore a saddened face, as they had when she had seen them, and it grieved Lucia in heart to see them once again.

Lucia willed her eyes to open, for she did not think she could bear the darkness about her. She thought to reason with the faces that had appeared, to tell them that she had done this terrible thing to spare them. She had fled from them only to aid them. Far behind her, she could hear the pleasing chimes of laughter and merriment, but all at once, she heard a most unpleasant sound among the rest. A voice, louder and nearer than the gentle ringings of happiness, clanged in the blackness, "Liar!"

Lucia stiffened, as though she had taken a strike, at the iron knell, like those to announce the day of reckoning for men under judgment. Indeed, in the darkness still around her, the faces of sadness were now as stern looks of condemnation. Again, the toll sounded all the louder, 'Liar,' and Lucia thought she might again shed a tear as she heard it. Her eyes opened swiftly, and she looked about from where she sat. Once more, the same accusation reached her ears, though now it did not sound at all as harsh.

From behind and to her left, Lucia spotted about four men at a table partaking in a game of dice and cups. From them, the charge came, though it was all in good nature and not brought against her. The lady watched as they looked to their fellows for what bid they might make, for she was quite familiar with the game. She listened as one would accuse the other and looked on as the cups were raised and the truth made known. One man would raise his arms in triumph at the discovered deception while his companions glanced upon him with irritation at having been discovered.

Lucia trembled as she watched. When she could not bear the sight, she turned her eyes away, and again she bade them to close. Despite the pains, the lady bent herself, and her shoulders tensed, as she sat in the darkness once more, trying to silence the laughter and the idle talk from all around her empty table. She hoped to devise some clever plan, and she found the friendly commotion offered nothing but an unwelcome distraction.

"I could slip away before Calill could take notice," she whispered. "She is far too busy to stop me, and the men are far too engaged in their drinks and chance games to call attention to me. Although, by now, Queen Elincia has the whole palace emptied looking for me, they may have already gone beyond Melior. If they have, I can still avoid being seen."

Before she could rise and depart, however, the loud thumping of heavy steps and booted feet reached her ears, as did the light slap of a strike upon wood. Her eyes snapped open and she turned to see none other than Makalov himself making his way through the pub. He greeted his fellow soldiers with either a blow upon their table or a good-natured strike upon their shoulders. He called out his good wishes in a loud voice, and Lucia turned her head away in the hopes that he would not see her. She frowned with displeasure at the thought of a man such as he lingering in this place so near to her. She found herself wishing that his eyes would not find her.

To her great displeasure, she heard him exclaim, "Why it's Lady Lucia!" She turned her eyes towards his voice, and she saw him looking upon her from where he stood in the middle of the room. He began to approach her table. Were she able, she surely would have worked some spell upon herself to hide, but she knew little of magic, and she doubted that such an art existed. She heard the thud of each step he took towards her, and as he came closer and closer, Lucia wondered if she could manage to flee from him.

When he stood beside her, Lucia wrinkled her nose as she caught the sharp scent of hard liquor. He was surely drunk. Makalov bowed to her in homage, "How wonderful to see you, fairest lady?" His words ran together as he spoke. Without invitation, he sat himself down across from her. Her face grew dark at the confirmation of his state, but the knight took no notice of her disdain for him, or if he had, he paid it no mind. "How are you?" he asked once he took his seat. "I don't see you in here, much. Tell me, how are you?"

"You asked me that question twice," Lucia replied with a sneer of disgust. "As for your answer, I was quite well at first, but now that you are here, I believe I am far worse." His face twisted into a most childish mask of self-pity at her words, and Lucia found it most remarkable that he could recognize an insult.

"What'd I do?" he asked with a weak whimper. "I haven't even seen you since we got back from all the fighting, and I gave you my little remedy. What'd I do?"

"I could name any one of a number of things, but perhaps we could start with your remedy. Although, now that you mention it, I do wonder why no one has seen you since my brother brought you back from the Marhaut Range. If I am not mistaken, you had a post to hold."

"Well, you see, after we got back, the general decided to give me a...'good beating,' that's what he said. He gave me about fifteen licks on my back and said I was lucky. So, I went to the queen, and asked for a little rest. I thought four days should be good, so then I went to get my pay, and so here I am. So, you have seen me, just now." He added in the feeble humor of a drunken man as a foolish grin fell across his lips.

"Geoffrey spoke rightly," Lucia replied. "You were indeed very lucky. I'd have given you thirty after what your negligence has caused. If it were not for the healers, we would likely be laying Astrid in her grave because of you." The broad smile upon his face faded away as a wounded frown again took its place. The fool looked upon the lady, though his head could not be still as it lightly bobbed about.

"Why do you and the general have to be so..." he paused, unsure of what word he could give, though Lucia doubted that he had the wit to give such a reply even if he had not taken any drink at all. "Why do you have to be like that?" Makalov bawled at length. "Queen Elincia was nice to me when I went to get my money. And I never meant for Astrid to be hurt. She's always been nice to me. She's been so nice that I think I'll even marry her."

The lady shook her head, and her face took on an unveiled look of unbelief. "If the smell of you was not enough, such a statement would surely show your state. If you think a woman of her character would think about giving her hand to a man like you, you are either very drunk or entirely out of your head. Now, please," she added pointing towards the other tables, "I ask that you find another table to sit and carry on. Why do you not spend your time with your fellow soldiers?"

"They never want me to sit with them. I even offer to buy their drinks, and they still won't let me sit with them. I don't have a friend in the world to share a good ale with me."

"Do you ever have the money to buy them drinks?" Lucia remarked. He remained silent for a moment or two, but at length Makalov shook his head with great reluctance. The lady could not help but permit herself to smile slightly at his unspoken admission. "I am not at all surprised. I'm told that you could waste your wages before the other men have even received theirs."

Her face of amusement soon faded as the fool continued to speak of how no one would abide his company, even to share a bottle. At once, his feeble wailings ceased, and she noticed him holding up a hand, beckoning for the attention of a very busied Calill. She took no notice of him, though it was likely that she did not have the opportunity to do so. When she had set down her load of food and brew, she returned to the lonely table at which Lucia sat. As her eyes fell upon the pink-haired man, the magician frowned deeply, and Lucia thought she heard Calill let a vexed breath out from her nose.

"I should have known that I would see you come to my inn, although when I didn't see you among the other men as they all pushed their way through my door, I had my hopes raised." She turned to the lady sitting across from him. "If you wish, Lady Lucia," she began, "I will have him thrown out."

"What'd I do?" Makalov wailed yet again. "I didn't do anything, did I Lady Lucia?"

The lady pondered whether she should speak favorably for the pitiable man. She did not care to abide his presence, as did most who knew him even in the slightest. She thought of the other untruths she had spoken, and she wondered if one more would do her any great wrong. Yet when he continued to carry on as though he were a child now scolded, she found she could not do it.

"He may stay," she said, softly. "I do not care."

"You may not care, but I surely do," Cailli replied with a sharpened tongue. "The lady does not want to be troubled by the likes of you. Go on and find another table. I'm sure some of the other louts will give you much better company."

"I do not mind him," Lucia said, once again with a soft voice, as though she truly did not have a care at all. "He may stay."

The calling of her patrons bade Calill to leave them, but before she went about her business, she looked upon Makalov with harsh and unfavorable eyes. "If you so much as think of sponging as much as a half a pint off the lady, I promise that you'll pay in full one way or the other. I could use another hand, and I'm sure the queen would agree with you working off your debt." Then she left them.

Lucia wondered to herself if she could creep away while her unwelcome guest looked about the room at his fellow soldiers and occasionally smiling at the sight. She was quite sure that he would take no notice. Her thoughts suddenly turned to his intentions. She knew him to be drunk, and yet he had come for more. She found herself questioning where he had previously been and how he might still afford to indulge his fondness for the strong drink. Her eye fell again upon Calill as she walked here and there among her patrons, and her arms folded crossly before her. If she could avoid the eyes of Makalov, Lucia doubted she could avoid the eyes of her hostess. For that matter, if by some ill chance the knight would see her, she was certain he would call out to her.

With a sigh of disappointment, Lucia chose to remain. When Calill returned moments later, the pink-haired knight smiled broadly, and the lady found the dislike of his company increasing twofold.

"Two pints," Makalov stated rather quickly. "I figured you'd want to drink with me," he added, pointing towards Lucia.

"I very much doubt she will," the magician replied. "I've never known Lady Lucia to drink, and if she has, I'm sure she only takes fine wine. She is a proper lady, after all, much like myself."

"I think she will," the knight said. "Besides, your ale is the best around. Why wouldn't she want to have some?" Lucia offered no words to dispute either of their claims. Despite the blood of the line of Delbray within her, Lucia did not feel at all as a proper lady, and she wondered if Makalov only spoke as he did because he knew of the secret beneath her bed. "A little swig is good for a body. It does a lot for the belly. Bring us two pints," the knight added, and Calill gave him a stern, disapproving frown instead of his requested brew.

"I've heard a 'little swig' can help a distressed belly, but I have never known you to take only a mouthful. As for the lady, what makes you think she needs it? If she has any sickness, she would likely go to a physician, and not to a full stein."

"Just look at her," Makalov persisted, holding his palm towards Lucia. "Something ails her; you can see it as plain as the nose on her face. It's right there in her eyes." Lucia furrowed her brow, and she felt her fingers tighten into an angered fist just as her face twisted into a darkened scowl at his words. She wondered how he could have the wit to see any such look of trouble within her eyes. She found her thoughts turning anew to the day before when Count Okale spoke such words with venom upon his tongue. His eyes were keen, while the eyes of the knight were surely dulled. How then could he see the eyes of affliction?

"I don't deny that she has something weighing upon her," Calill answered. "But I would still doubt that she would take strong drink, and I certainly doubt she would take it with you. Besides, I don't think you have even a coin to pay for half of a pint, let alone three for one."

"I certainly do," the knight replied with an offense that sounded quite poor, as though he were not offended at all. He reached for his belt, and he produced a small bag and threw it upon the table. "There's twelve coins in there, and that should buy us both a couple of good ales," he said, pointing at the purse. "So, please, sweet lady, bring them here."

Calill said nothing, and she continued to wear the same displeased frown as she took the bag. "Offering words of flattery will not get you a drop," she remarked at length. "After all, a woman of breeding, such as myself, does not fall for falsely sweet words, but I suppose as a woman who relies on the trade of others, I cannot refuse your money. All the same, I do not think Lady Lucia will take even a drop with you."

"You might as well do as he asks," said Lucia, softly as though she had not the strength to make any refusal. "He will only persist until either your ears or mine bleed from hearing him carry on. Bring me a pint as well, if only to silence him."

Makalov clapped his hands once in feeble and yet apparent triumph as Calill left them only to return a few moments later with two metal steins filled nearly to the brim with amber ale and a white foam balancing upon the edge. The knight wasted little time in wrapping his fingers around the handle. Lucia wrinkled her nose with disgust at his ravenous haste, and she did not reach out to take the cup set before her.

"Drink," Makalov bade, gesturing towards her stein, "it's the best in all of Crimea." He had barely uttered the last word before lifting the cup to his lips and drinking loudly from it. Lucia could hardly believe her eyes as he continued to drink without ceasing to take even a breath. When he had emptied his stein of half the brew, he set it back upon the table and wiped away the froth clinging to his mouth and chin.

"Drink up," he said again. "You'll rest better than when your own mother sang you to sleep. Why, I bet the bottles I gave you made your eyes close for the rest of the night."

"My mother hardly ever sang to me," Lucia replied in a voice of contempt for the knight, as many who knew him often did. "As for your wager, if you had thought to lay money down, you would be handing your purse to me instead of Calill. I not only didn't close my eyes, but I found myself feeling too ill to think of sleeping."

Makalov's eyes grew wide in unhidden alarm at the words he had heard, "What kind of mother doesn't sing? My mother would sing me and Marcia to sleep every night."

Lucia found herself astonished that he chose to give a reply to those words rather than her answer to the remedy he had given her. "Your mother was not of noble birth, and she likely did not have a newly born princess to hold her attention," said she. At once, the lady found herself thinking poorly of her words, for she knew that she had spoken with unintended arrogance towards the knight. He took no notice of her words, however, and merely took another deep and loud drink from his cup.

"Take a drink," the knight bade once more when he took the stein away from his mouth. "You'll sleep so well tonight, you'll feel like a new lady. It's the best remedy for all that...ales you." He roared with amusement at his words, though Lucia only rubbed her brow, and she silently wished with great fervor that she were in the midst of nothing more than some dream brought about by a disorderly belly. She quickly found the notion quite childish, though pleasing.

"How can you go from appalled to delighted in so short a time?" she wondered aloud as he continued to laugh. When she thought again of how he had entered with a voice already impeded and likely uneasy steps, and she asked also of him, "For that matter, how can you want more when you are already clearly drunk?"

"Just take a drink, and you'll find out. It's the best remedy for any and all your troubles. And as for that other question, I don't go anywhere without my little friend." He reached down, likely for his belt, and when he brought his hand before her eyes, Lucia spotted a small metal flask around which his fingers lovingly clutched.

"Oh, Ashera help us if you ever rise beyond your rank in this army," she remarked with a sad shake of her head. She was certain that it held stronger liquor, likely the same as those in the bottles he had given her. "If my brother saw you carry that flask, he would likely have you thrown out. Where do you hide it?"

"Sorry, my lady, but that's one thing you'll never know," he said with a large smile before tucking it back into his belt. "Now, please drink up. It's helped me through the worst of times. When we raided Felirae, it gave me the nerve to ride with the general. It's a fine remedy for all the troubles you have." Lucia only furrowed her brow when he again praised the drink, and she would have enjoyed to slap the table with her palm. Yet when she thought of the stir it would cause, she thought better of it. Her eyes cast a harsh glare towards the knight. The flame beneath her gaze burned quickly from her eyes to her lips, and she could not hold back her tongue at his words.

"I will hear no more of your professed remedies, since you insist on calling them that. I have said it already; the only thing those bottles of yours managed to do was upset my belly. Now, please, if you enjoy your ale, then drink mine as well, and let me be on my way." Makalov pursed his lips, and then reached across the table to take the stein brought for Lucia. When he lifted it to his mouth, the lady sighed with contentment at the thought of leaving if time would permit her. To her dismay, however, he took only a mouthful before placing the cup in front of her once more.

Makalov pursed his lips before speaking, "I should have thought better when I gave you those bottles. That is strong brew I gave you, and you're probably not used to it, especially drinking that fancy palace wine." He brought out his small flask once more and before Lucia could give any word of protest, he had emptied it into her cup. "This ale is pretty weak, so it should go down easier. Come to think of it, mine is pretty weak too." She saw him pour the last of his hard liquor into his own cup before raising it as though he would drink as a salute. "Now, take a good drink of that, and you'll be happier than...well, you'll be happier. Just listen," he added, gesturing with the stein towards the crowd of soldiers.

They were singing, and though their voices were not at all subdued or slight, Lucia had taken no notice until this moment. It was not a song passed down through any great poet for many a wandering troubadour to sing. It was a rather simple song written without parchment or pen for only the very moment. At once, the voices of the soldiers arose in a joyful chorus.

_So drink it dry, __  
><em>_So drink it dry, __  
><em>_So drink the whole stein dry.__  
><em>_For tomorrow we shall go away__  
><em>_And maybe shall we die._

Lucia listened with an intent that she found most peculiar as the song continued.

_I went away to fight the war__  
><em>_And sleep on cold, hard ground.__  
><em>_But now I've come to fight no more__  
><em>_And drink on beer so brown_

_So drink it dry,__  
><em>_So drink it dry,__  
><em>_So drink the whole stein dry.__  
><em>_For tomorrow we shall go away__  
><em>_And maybe shall we die._

Though the lady cared very little for the songs of a pub given by drunken men and their often-boorish musings, Lucia could not deny that, though the song told of trouble, they did indeed seem happy as they sang of it. At once, she found herself most envious of those men and what joy they seemed to have. She closed her eyes to see once more the faces of Elincia, Geoffrey, Bastian, and Beth, but beyond their faces of loving concern, she saw the face of Boldan staring back at her through the shadows. She saw the faces of the few rebels who had served the general gathered beyond him, and she could bear the sight of them no longer.

Quickly, Lucia seized the stein by the handle and lifted it to her mouth. She cared not for the burning as she drank deeply of the ale. When she recalled the vile faces of Boldan and his man, Heldfrai, the wicked, eager face of Otis, and even the saddened look of Calihem, the father of Cassandra, the burn of strong liquor, softened by the brew of the house, flowing down her throat seemed a trivial matter. It seemed that she might finish it one swallow until she brought her cup away, but she did so with such haste that she began to cough, spitting the mouthful she held over Makalov.

"I don't feel any happier for my trouble," Lucia uttered crossly between the fits of coughing. When she found her voice at length, she continued, "I should have known better than to take your advice in this matter."

Makalov only shook his head, though it seemed to wobble this way and that as he did. "You can't drink it as fast as you did. I'd think you'd know that. That fancy wine might not have the strength of ale or my flask, but you don't just down the whole cup at once." He beckoned once more for Calill to set another two pints before them, and she did so, though she had not the desire to indulge the knight. She glared with great wrath at him, and Lucia wondered if she might think to use her magic upon him. When their hostess had gone, Makalov produced a second flask to the thorough surprise of Lucia.

"I always have another for the sake of urgency," said the knight when he beheld the face of the lady. He carefully poured what seemed several mouthfuls to her into the cup, and he bade her to drink. She did so, though she drank slowly. When she set the cup down, it seemed to stir Makalov in a most pleasing way. He had not even taken a sip of his own stein, and when Lucia had finished her own, he merely slid his towards her, while consuming what strong drink remained in his flask. "You're looking quite well," said he. "I told you that drinking would lighten your heavy load."

Lucia gave no answer. Even after a mere two cups of ale, the lady found her spirits were lifted very high, though had she the wit to think of it at present, she would have owed it to the additional brew the knight had offered her. She took another drink from the stein he had given, and she smiled with a broad and foolish beam. When she closed her eyes, she saw no faces lingering in the shadows with her, though it did seem to make the commotion double within her head. The laughs and words of the soldiers grew louder, and so she kept her eyes open. Her head bobbed about as Makalov's had done earlier and even as it did now.

"Have I ever told you something?" she said with her voice catching and running together. Makalov merely shook his head. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"I don't think you've told me anything," he replied. "But you might have. I can't tell."

"I know I wanted to tell you..." she did not finish her thought as she burst into a fit of laughter. When Lucia had ceased to laugh, she quickly seized her stein and stood up upon her chair. She called for the attention of all who had come to _The Calill_. "Knights and soldiers of the realm," she began. "I would like to tell you all that I am drunk. And I have never been drunk before."

Though many would not likely receive such a statement with favor, the men gathered there, in the same state as Lucia herself, offered their praises to her. At first, it was only calls of cheer, but in moments, they began to clap their hands. After a moment or two, the strikes of their hands fell into a steady pace as another man rose as she did to lead the crowd in the very song they had sung only moments ago, and Lucia lent her voice to theirs. When they had finished, Lucia raised her stein as high as her arm would permit and shouted in a loud voice, far louder than any man who knew her could recall.

"Let us drink," she shouted without restraint. "But what shall we drink to?" Silence fell across the pub, and no man could find a suitable occasion with which to offer. They could not drink to their victory over the Black Count, for they had done so the previous day. When they could give no words, Lucia spoke again and very loudly. "If we can't find some cause to take a drink, then I say, let us drink to nothing! Let us drink to everything, to anything, and to nothing at all!"

The fighting men did not falter for a moment to wonder if her words were altogether foolish. They instead banged their steins together in drunken laud. Lucia took a great mouthful of what remained of the third cup, and as she did so, she felt a great rush of air at her back. From somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard the voice of Calill cry out in alarm. A sudden twinge of pain swelled in her back and against her head, and then, just as suddenly, darkness fell upon her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Aren't I just the worst when it comes to cliffhangers? Hopefully, it won't take as long, but don't hold me to that. You know me when it comes to this story. If some of the names don't sound familiar, they were mentioned in chapter 2, a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.

Let me also say that I'm a terrible lyricist. I originally had a different song planned for Lucia to join in, but I could not for the life of me get any words to come. It took all I had to write up those few words, and most of it was a chorus. Anyway, I guess I learned something: stick with prose. XD

I hope you liked this. To be honest, I felt like I was losing my touch when I read through this. But hopefully, that's just me being my own toughest critic again.


	9. Chapter IX: The Breaking of the Storm

**A/N:** Yes, I know it's been a while, and yes, I know the word count is really high. I tried to shorten it, but it just didn't happen. As for how long it's taken, I wanted to wait and update it after I had finished reworking the earlier chapters for my appendices, which I will post later. But it's taking longer than I though because writing takes time, energy, and a degree of peace: none of which I seem to have at the moment. So, I thought I would throw this one out there because it might be a while before you get another. But don't worry. I'll still be working on it.

Enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter IX: The Breaking of the Storm<strong>

At first, Lucia saw only a deep blackness about her. She saw no faces, yet she felt a chilling sensation of fear and dread. She could feel nothing within her body at first, but it seemed to her as if she were floating, as though she were adrift in gentle waters. She knew not where she was, and the lack of such knowledge only frightened her more. In the distance, she saw a small light, like that of a star peering down upon her. It seemed to invite her to come towards it, but her dead limbs could not move. She did not even know if she were moving at all or if she felt only the false sensations.

Slowly, the single star grew, and as it did, it seemed to bring life into Lucia's arms and legs before it began to course through her, as if it flowed like a river. At first, her body could only feel discomforting prickles. As the flows of new life went about their paths, they washed the stings away, leaving a rather different sensation in their wake. Lucia could not describe it, except that it brought her warmth and comfort. The darkness about her seemed to lighten, though it did not turn to morning, but rather into shades of brown.

She became aware of a gentle heat upon her side, which she found very pleasing, and a dull ache upon her back and head, which she did not find pleasing at all. Just then, a second star appeared alongside the first. Lucia found herself drawn to the small pair. Were they truly stars? She could not say, for she did not know. She only knew that she was glad to see them. The radiant white of her stars soon turned a slight shade of red, like that of wine. Lucia also became aware of a weight upon her belly.

At last, her vision seemed clear, and she realized that she was lying down, and staring into the face of a child. She knew the girl, but at the moment, all knowledge seemed to have departed from her, except for the throbbing within her head, the weight of the child upon her belly, and a growing feeling of illness from within it. Aside from these, she knew that she was lying upon a bedroll before a fireplace or even an oven with its heat gently working its way through her clothing.

The child above her smiled, and at once, she called out.

"Mama," she said with a loud and cheery voice, and Lucia winced at the sound, as the pains within her head seemed to double. She found such a lighthearted tone quite vexing, though she did not know the reason. She did know that what had remained of the pleasing streams of warmth had now faded, as the little rivers often did under an unyielding sun. "Mama," the girl said again. "She's awake."

Lucia looked off to her right to see Calill rising from a chair and nearing the place where she laid. She slowly brought her eyes towards the ceiling above and shut them tightly against all that would come near to her sight. A painful moan left her lips as Lucia thought only in puzzled wonder at where she might be.

"That's a fine girl, Amy," Calill answered. Though Lucia kept her eyes closed, the innkeeper wore a bright smile in the presence of her daughter. "Now, do be a good little thing and get off Lady Lucia." Amy only smiled as she obeyed the wishes of her mother, though Lucia only moaned once more as the child removed her weight from her body. It was a relief to her to have even a girl of Amy's slight stature no longer pressing down upon her, but her belly felt at greater unease than when she had first awakened. She heard Calill continue to speak gentle words to the girl.

"Now, run along and let Papa tuck you in. Lady Lucia and I are going to have a talk she promised me, and you have been up far beyond other little girls."

Lucia heard the innkeeper give the child a light kiss and bade her to sleep well. The pattering of small feet told the lady that Amy was gone, and she slowly opened her eyes to stare again at the wood ceiling above her. But she did not remain still for long.

Lucia felt Calill take her by the legs and compel them to come to the floor. The innkeeper then bade upon her arms so that she would sit upright. When she had managed this, Calill sat in the empty place beside the lady, who now saw that she had been laid in the kitchen of the inn.

Lucia did not look upon her surroundings for long, and she meekly buried her face in her hands to hide her from the eyes of her hostess as she realized what must have occurred. Slowly, as her vision had done, she began to recall the things she had done, though she was not certain of the time. Had she slept here through the night? She did not know. But as the remembrance returned, Lucia felt greatly shamed when she thought of it. The pain in her head only made such a thought all the worse for her.

"I wish to die," Lucia muttered softly, unsure of why she had said such a thing. It seemed to her the only words she could say, even if she meant them not. She hoped Calill had not heard those words. In truth, she now wished that her own ears had not heard them as well. Her eyes went wide, as she felt the magician place an arm around her back and beneath her own arm. Calill then placed her other hand against Lucia's shoulder.

"Can you stand?" Calill asked. "I hope you will answer me this time."

Lucia withdrew her face from her palms and looked towards her hostess. "What do you mean when you say, 'this time'?"

"I've been asking if you could stand. I've asked you three times, now, but all you've done is sit here and moan while looking through your fingers. I suppose that shouldn't surprise me, but now that I have your attention I might as well make it four. Can you stand?"

"I don't know," Lucia replied with no tone. "I feel as if I've carried the entire palace on my back and been struck on the head with the flat of a sword at the same time. Even if I can stand, I don't know if I could remain on my feet." Her hand lightly touched her left side, and at once she felt naught but empty space, the cloth of her clothing, and the coarse touch of the bedroll on which she had laid. "My sword," she said. "Where is my sword?"

"It's over in the corner, my lady. Look there," Calill answered with some irritation at the question. She pointed to the lonely corner where the sword and scabbard she had purchased earlier that day rested in undisturbed solitude, much as the lady herself had once wished would be done with her. "As for how you feel," the innkeeper went on, "That comes as no surprise to me, although I'm not sure if it comes from what you drank or because you have just hit your head. Still, let's try and get you standing. To make it easier on you, we'll do it on the count of three."

Lucia could hardly believe her ears. Though she could remember entering the inn and most of what had happened earlier, she could not recall what had brought her to this room. She shook her head gently at the words of the innkeeper, for every movement only brought her pain upon pain.

Calill began counting, and when she had said the appointed number, the two of them rose, though Lucia felt her knees object strongly to such an act. Calill kept her hands upon her as the lady swayed on her weakened legs. All at once, Lucia felt as though her belly would leap out of her mouth.

"I think I will be very ill," she managed to say as she pressed her hand against her lips, hoping to bar her errant belly from doing as she feared. From out of the corner of her eye, Lucia glimpsed a look of great worry upon the face of Calill. The lady saw the eyes of her hostess turned not towards the swordswoman, but rather to the gown their bearer wore. Had Lucia not felt such a sickness, she might have found the realization that Calill held such concern for her clothing amusing yet indeed shortsighted.

Without a moment of hesitation, Calill tightened her hold upon the lady, and whisked her away out of the kitchen and back into the pub. Lucia took no notice that the room, once light and lively, was now dark and lifeless. Deftly, the magician weaved her way among the empty tables, until they came to a door near the base of the stairs. Quickly, she opened the door and gently pushed Lucia inside before shutting the door behind her.

The small room was unadorned, save for an empty, earthenware pot in the middle. Lucia knelt before it, and it was not long before her belly would no longer permit any further restraint.

The lady wished for tears to fall as she expelled, though she did not know why. She only knew she wished to weep over what she had done. Yet not a single tear fell from her eyes, though she found herself sobbing freely.

"What have I done?" she managed to say through the persisting illness and the sobs. "What have I done, and why have I done it?" Her hands tightened themselves into fists, and even through her gloves, Lucia thought she could feel her fingernails biting into the flesh of her palm, as she continued to kneel before the white pot, stained well from the service it offered. The sight filled Lucia with disgust, and she rose quickly, as her face twisted from the smell of the chamber, which she had only now begun to notice.

The lady left the room, and saw no sign of Calill. At first, she thought once more to run as her gaze turned to the door. With the pub most certainly emptied, Lucia knew she could quite easily slip away. It did come as a great surprise to her that Calill did not linger for her, and she pondered if it was, by chance, a good fortune.

In the distance, Lucia thought she heard the drumming beats of thunder, and so she made herself ready to leave so as not to squander what boon she had. She took no more than a step towards the door when the tapping of heeled shoes met her ears, and Lucia sighed a most vexed sigh, though she did so with discretion, as Calill herself appeared before her eyes. At first, neither woman spoke a word to each other, though Lucia's thoughts were of a wild and most frightened sort, as though she were a cornered hare soon to be killed by some hunter.

She did wonder what thoughts might Calill entertain, though the lady could not tell, even from the slight smile on the face of her hostess. Clasping her hands in front of her, Lucia brought her eyes to meet Calill's and forced a similar smile, though one she hoped seemed sincere.

"Thank you," Lucia said.

"Why do you give me thanks?" Calill replied swiftly. Lucia's hands fell to her sides, and her face took on a most uncertain expression. Her head tilted slightly to the side as she wondered at the question asked of her. When she gave no answer, Calill went on. "Would you like to have that talk you promised me? I have no doubt that this will be a night I will never forget, and I would love to hear what you have to say for yourself?"

Lucia winced at her words, for it seemed to her that the magician had brought some accusation against her. She thought again to run, even in the sight of her hostess, but she could not force her legs to move from where she stood. She reasoned that if she could flee now, she might find another way of leaving. Thinking that she might have use of her talents as a spy of the queen, Lucia straightened her back and put about herself the airs of her breeding, as she had done in the house of Ludveck.

"I give you thanks for your hospitality, even if I cannot remember to what cause I owe it. As for what I have to say for myself, I can remember nothing."

"That doesn't surprise me, and you have no need to talk like a noblewoman," Calill answered, keeping her voice firm yet soft. "I know you well enough to know how you work your way through any trouble. If you can't use your sword, you use your charms, although I could teach you more about that than you think you know. As for my hospitality, I haven't granted it to you, yet, though you're welcome just the same. I think you remember more than you say, but let me ask you a question. Does your head hurt?"

Lucia closed her eyes. Though the pains had eased, she could not deny that every sound still caused them to increase within her head, and she could only nod in reply.

"I thought so," said Calill. "Now, I think I might grant you some of my hospitality. Come with me, and we'll have that talk you promised." She took Lucia by the hand and led her back the way they had come. Lucia tried to resist, but she found she had not the strength to do so. It did not prevent her from the attempt to pull her hand free, though she could not.

"I have made no promise," she said, hoping to dissuade her hostess. "I would gladly stay and talk, but I have other matters that require my attention."

"I highly doubt that," Calill answered, looking not towards Lucia. "I told you earlier, I knew you were not on the queen's business. As for making a promise, you may not have given me any word, but after what happened tonight, I'd say you owe it to me."

Lucia sighed as she was led back into the kitchen of the inn, and she did not resist any longer. Once more, she thought she heard the distant rumblings of thunder, though they seemed nearer than when she had last heard the sound.

* * *

><p>Lucia could not help but ponder what had occurred since she had come to <em>The<em> _Calill_. Its namesake had not spoken another word to her since she had met the lady, and Lucia found herself wishing it were not so. She wondered if she had brought some great shame to the house of the queen, though she was certain that she could bring no greater disgrace to her name and to the name of her milk-sister than that of desertion. Still, she could not help but think upon what she might have done before the world around her had gone dark and she awoke in the care of Amy.

When they came to the kitchen, the two women found Largo seated at the table, for the kitchen was also where the family would dine when they did not attend to their patrons. Though she did not see it, Calill glared at her husband when he remained seated.

"Stand up," she bade him. "I thought I taught you a few things concerning how a man conducts himself around a woman, especially a woman of breeding."

"I don't see why I have to stand," Largo replied. "After all, you're my wife, aren't you, lamb blossom?" Lucia permitted a small smile at the affectionate but rather odd name he had dubbed her. "And as for Lady Lucia," added he, "she is a close friend. Why should I have to stand?"

"It seems I cannot make any sort of progress on refining you," remarked Calill with a haughty voice that Lucia knew well. "Even if we serve the most boorish men in the kingdom, I should like to think that we have some understanding of propriety, especially in the presence of a reputable woman and a noblewoman."

"Please," Lucia said, holding up the hand that Calill did not still hold, "do not quarrel on my account. I am surrounded by formality and expectation within the palace, and I could easily excuse a lack of either. Besides, my head still aches, and the raising of your voices only does it worse."

"I am not at all surprised," Calill answered, though her voice had now softened. "But do forgive us for that little dispute, Lady Lucia. We will try to keep our voices down for your sake. All the same, I wish I could teach my husband the way he should conduct himself. Perhaps, you could arrange for your brother to instruct him. I'm sure he knows the proper ways to act around a woman of breeding."

Lucia could not help but smile once more at her words, for she was certain that Calill did not mean a word of derision towards her husband, though her own vanity still made itself very apparent. The magician bade upon the hand of the lady once more and brought her to the table. Largo rose, and with one arm, he slid a chair out for his guest, and he appeared to take no offense at the words of his wife. He then took his own seat, across from her.

"Are you hungry?" Calill asked, once Lucia had sat down. The lady merely looked down and placed her hands over her belly, which once more felt ill at the very mention of food.

"I am not," Lucia answered.

"I didn't expect you would be. Even so, I think you should eat something. I have some broth on the fire, and I think it will do you good. It's not a strong broth, just water and a few vegetables from our larder, so I think it will be easy on your belly. For another thing, it is rather late, and I imagine you haven't had a thing to eat."

Lucia looked towards her hostess in silent wonder at her words, while Calill fetched a wooden bowl and walked towards the large cooking pot hanging over the fire. She brought her hand to the back of her head, wincing at the slight touch of her fingers, and the lady thought again to what might have happened. At once, Largo spoke up, and Lucia found her pondering cut short much as her own hair once was.

"I'll say one thing about the lady," the former-fighter said, "she can't hold her liquor in the slightest. I can't believe she got so drunk off of three steins of our ale. I've seen men drink up to ten, and they never got so drunk."

"Largo, you hold your tongue," Calill replied sharply. She had, by now, returned to the table with the wooden bowl, now filled with broth and a simple spoon also of wood. "Pay him no mind, Lady Lucia," added she, as she set the bowl before her guest. "Shouldn't you go tuck Amy in?" she asked, turning her eyes towards her husband. "If you wish to play the fool, then perhaps it would give more benefit to our daughter than to a troubled lady."

"I've already tucked her in and sang her that lullaby that you sing to her, lamb blossom. Besides, it's true. I've never seen anyone get so drunk so quickly. I'm sure even the wine in the palace is stronger than our brew."

"Please, do not quarrel," Lucia interjected, pressing her hands against her ears. "I can't listen to it at present. Even if you do not raise your voices, my head still throbs."

The former-fighter and his wife looked upon each other with a look of minor shame at their actions. "Sorry," Largo said at length. "We didn't mean anything by it, but we should have thought better of it."

"Yes, we should have," Calill added in ascent. "Please, eat, my lady. I'll find you something for your head that might do you some good." She gestured towards the bowl before she left the room. Lucia looked down upon the small meal, and she felt her belly turn in time with the slight waving of the watery contents tinted with a slight green and the small bites of carrot and other vegetables bobbing up and down. When the broth at last settled, Lucia found herself none the more relieved, though for the respect of her hostess, she took the spoon and slowly began to eat.

"Does it help?" Largo asked as he watched.

"The broth is good, and I suppose, even though I feel much worse than I could ever recall, it would do me good to have it. It would seem that I am hungrier than I thought. Tell me," Lucia added, setting down the spoon for a moment and meeting the former-fighter's eyes with an urgent look in her own, "What time is it?"

"It's well past sunset, my lady," answered he with a slight chuckle to the question. Lucia let her mouth fall slightly open, and she turned her eyes away from him. She found herself wondering if Elincia had by now learned of her departure, and what the members of her court might now be doing. Did they console their queen or did they speak condemning words to her? Lucia feared to know this, but at present, she felt her belly groan, for it had come to enjoy the warmth of the broth. And so, she hurriedly took spoonful after spoonful until not a drop of water or bite of the farmer's labors remained.

* * *

><p>It was not long after that Calill returned with a single wooden cup, and she wasted little time in setting it before Lucia and taking a seat next to her.<p>

"Drink that," she bade. "It should help that head of yours."

Lucia peered into the cup, and she cringed at the sight of a darkened liquid, such as that of the miry pits after a soaking rain. At first, she thought to refuse the offered remedy, but the sight of Calill's eyes, firm and unrelenting in insistence, instead prompted her to reach out and drink. As she lifted the cup to her lips, however, the fragrance of a multitude of herbs filled her nose. She readily recognized the scent of rosemary, for it was often used in the palace kitchen, and the strong aroma of what she knew the common people called the candy leaf, but the smells of others, she knew not.

Slowly, she partook of the drink, and to her surprise, Lucia found it pleasing to her tongue as she found the sweetness of honey mingled with the herbs.

"What is this?" the lady asked, "and where did you get it?"

"It's a tea made with a slight bit of honey from my larder and a few herbs I have on hand. Nephenee taught me about them when we traveled together. She told me that they would do amazing things for an ailing head. I may have mastered the art of magic, but that does not mean that even one such as I cannot still learn a thing or two. As simple as they are, even the country girls can teach us something of value." Calill replied with some degree of hesitation, as though she herself doubted her own words and held some qualm as she spoke.

Lucia lightly smiled, for she had long ago guessed that the magician was not as refined as she had often boasted, and she was now certain of it, for Calill was not at all a talented liar. She did not press the matter, as she continued to drink.

"You have my thanks then," the lady said when she had finished. "My head does feel somewhat better, but I still feel a slight pain. My belly is at ease as well."

"That tea will help your head and your belly, but it won't ease everything," Calill answered with a slight wag of her finger. Lucia had not seen such a gesture since she was but an untamed child, and the sight of it brought to her mind the many rebukes her mother had often given her. She had borne such things with only a wide and very impish beam, but on this night, Lucia could find no such amusement. "Now, that I think you're well enough to say, what's say you to telling me what brought you here? I'd say you still owe me that much." Calill added.

Lucia found her words as sour to her ears just as she had found the tea pleasing. A low breath came from her nose, and she roughly brought the cup down upon the table. The tea, though only half in the cup, fell upon the lady, staining the white of her clothing with a tint of brown. The sight only roused the anger of the lady further.

"I will not be spoken to as though I am a mere child!" Lucia shouted. "I am not your daughter, and for that, I owe you no explanation!"

"You have no need to get angry with me," said Calill, with a good deal of confusion in her voice.

"Why should I not? All those who know me think that I have no vulnerability, no crack in my wall. The only one who thought differently was a man Crimea wishes either dead or forgotten. But when the others see even the slightest of flaws, they insist only on provoking me with their incessant questions. First, it was Elincia, then Bastian, Geoffrey, and Percival, and now you. I tell you, I will not abide it any longer." Lucia rose swiftly to her feet, and Calill did the same.

"Sit down," the innkeeper bade her guest.

"I will not," Lucia sharply replied. "My business is my own, and it is no concern of anyone!"

"Lady Lucia," Calill said with a tongue just as sharp. Lucia recoiled, for it seemed as sharp as any blade that had struck her in the midst of battle. "Do not suppose that I am some idling busybody who has nothing else to do with herself but pry secrets from another woman. I have not spoken to you with the thought that you were a child, although it seems you wish to act like one. I only want to help you, as one friend to another," she added, softening her tone. She neared the lady, and gently bade upon her shoulder. "If you do not wish for my help, then that is your business, but I can see you are troubled. I would think you would want help from one who knows trouble when she sees it."

At once, Lucia sat back in the chair. She knew not why she had done so, save only in the realization that she had spoken wrongly towards her hostess. "I am sorry," said she at length. "I should not have said such things."

"There's no harm done. I am not so proud that I cannot tolerate an insult, no matter how undeserving it may be." The magician took the seat in which she had sat only moments ago. "Now, will you tell me what brought you here?"

"You insist on asking that of me," Lucia answered with a light shake of her head, "but I do not even know what has happened. Tell me how I ended up here in your kitchen, and then I will answer."

"You got drunker than any man I've ever seen," said Largo. "Like I said, I can't believe anyone could fall flat on the floor after drinking our weakest ale. Why, I could drink ten pints of that and not feel anything."

"She did not only drink our ale," Calill retorted. "Makalov added his own brew to everything she drank. I don't know what it was he poured into our steins, but it was strong."

"I remember him," Lucia interjected at the mention of the knight. "I also remember drinking with him, though it seems quite vague. I thought I was standing up, and then the next thing I remember was everything turning black. Tell me what has happened since then. I know you told me I struck my head, Calill."

"You were, and you did," said the magician. "I watched you fall. You stood up on your chair, swung your stein around, took a great mouthful of ale, and down you went. I couldn't tell whether you had stepped off the chair by mistake, or if it had fallen over and taken you with it." When she had said this, Lucia again raised her fingers to brush against the place where she had been struck. She cringed in pain as she found it, while her hostess only nodded. "You'll likely have a knot the size of Largo's fist. That tea may help the aliment from the drinking, but that is the only pain it will ease."

Lucia might have found it strangely amusing that she had fallen twice this day and had both harms compared to the size of the hand of the former-fighter, for she had done so herself. Yet, she did not on this night.

"The entire pub froze, as though the winter had blown in and struck them right down to the bone," added Largo. "Both of us hurried to your table, while a couple of soldiers didn't lose a moment to grab Makalov. Calill got there first, and when I got there, she was trying to find out if you were still breathing."

"I've heard of people dying from a good blow to the head," said Calill. "Luckily, you were very much alive. You didn't even bleed. All the same, Makalov could only wail like the fool he is. All he could say was, 'She is dead. I've killed the lady.' I had the thought to set his seat on fire for making such a nuisance of himself, but I thought your brother would do far better to him. I told the soldiers who held him to take him to the palace. Largo carried you into the kitchen and laid you down."

"Even with only one arm, I'm still as strong as a good plow ox," proclaimed he quickly at the praise. "I've held off three bears, so you were just like a feather, my lady."

"As I was saying," Calill went on, sounding rather cross at her husband's interruption, "after we had you settled, I, myself, went to the palace. I thought I would be thrown to the ground on the way because the city guard was also on their way there, and with how they were running, it was as if they'd found Boldan himself."

Lucia felt her shoulders fall as a soft sigh left her mouth, as she heard the account. If the city guards had filled the streets and hurried to the queen's house as Calill had spoken, then she had little doubt that Elincia had summoned them for the purpose of finding her wayward milk-sister. Yet, Lucia held to some hope, though certain she held it in vain, that some other cause had compelled the actions of the queen. She said not a word, however, as Calill went on.

"When I arrived at the palace, I had a most difficult time trying to see the queen. At first, I was turned away, but I told the guards that I knew Her Majesty and that she would want to see me. I should think my face would be well-known among everyone in Melior. It took a few more words, but I was finally admitted. I tell you, Lady Lucia, the halls were livelier than the streets. Soldiers were running here and there, and most seemed to be heading for the gardens."

Again, Lucia sighed, but still she willed her heart to cling to what hope she still had. She feared to ask, but she thought it might quicken the words of her hostess. "Were you able to gain your audience with Elincia?" the lady inquired.

"I did. I found her in her counseling chamber. Your brother was by her side talking softly to her. At first, I thought that it was some secret meeting between them. I always thought that those two were more than they would even admit, though I did have my eye on the general more than once. But when I was announced, and I saw the queen's face, I knew that it was hardly a moment between two lovers. She seemed troubled, just as she did when she had received word of your capture, and she told me she had no time for a visit. I wasted no time in mentioning you, my lady. I told the queen that you were in my inn and what had happened."

Another low beat of thunder sounded as the storm drew nearer to the city, and as it sounded, Lucia felt her heart fracture, yet not shatter. Rather, she felt the hope of sparing Elincia what ache of the heart she could shatter in its place. Her head bowed, her eyes closed, and once more she hoped to weep, but she could not.

"Are you well, Lady Lucia?" Largo asked. When he had spoken, Lucia's eyes sprang open, but she did not lift her gaze.

"What did the queen say to that?" said the lady.

"The queen said nothing," answered Calill. "General Geoffrey, however, said he would come and fetch you himself, and then he would have Makalov beaten sore. He would have done it as well, but I persuaded him to stay. I told him you were in no state to move and that we would bring you to the palace ourselves in the morning."

"I expected you to sleep until then, but it seems you have more strength than most men I know," her husband added, though Lucia did not find his words agreeable, friendly though they might have been. "You may have drunk yourself off, but you woke up faster than anyone else." Again, his wife glared at him, though Largo seemed not to care, for he had many times received such a face from her.

For a time, a chilling silence lingered in the small kitchen, despite the comforting heat of the cookery. Largo and Calill looked upon Lucia, who kept her eyes cast down to the floor. It was not a silence that could remain for any lengthy moment as Calill would not permit it to persist. "

Now, that I have told you all of this, my lady," she began, "I say it's time you tell me the answer to the riddle. What has brought you to my door? You are not a drinker, at least not of ales and stouts. Your brother comes often to visit and on the occasion to enjoy a cup of beer with his men, but you have hardly ever come here. I find even more strange that when you did choose to come to my pub, you carry on as Makalov or any other drunkard. So, what is the answer, Lady Lucia?"

At first, Lucia gave no answer. She did, after a moment, raise her head to meet the eyes of her hostess. "I thank you for telling all of this to me," she said at last in a most noble tone. "It does me some good to know that I have been found." When she spoke again, her voice, at once, took on a most distressed and fearful sound. "Yet, I ask you, no I beg you, Calill, do not press the matter. I'm not strong enough to hear it, even from my own mouth."

"What do you mean when you say 'found'?" the magician asked. "And what could have happened that would cause you to do this?"

"You would not understand it," Lucia replied.

"I would not? My dear, Lady Lucia, I understand more than you presume. I am well-versed in the magic arts, but I have learned much more in this pub. I have learned the face worn by those who wish to forget, and I have seen that face many times. I've seen men who wish to forget drought, illness, war, and death. I have even women who wish to forget their miseries, some for the same reasons and others for reasons I would not begin to guess. I have seen that face worn by many but never worn by you. I have seen you fight, my lady, and I have seen you kill. Tell me, is it the blood and screaming of war that you wish to forget?"

Lucia looked towards Calill with a face of false amusement, for she did not think that her hostess held such a thought as to her reasons. When the innkeeper smiled, the lady was certain of it. "I do not fear the cries or the chaos of battle. As for the deaths my sword has brought, if it were for the protection of Queen Elincia and for the good of her realm, I would turn it against any man. However, again, you would not understand why I have done this, but I will tell you I did not mean to come here."

"Now, that is something I believe," the magician replied, "You came through my door as if the ghost of Ashnard himself was behind you, but I would still wish to know what caused you to come through it. I didn't think that you would try to drink away the thought of battle. You're much stronger than most of the men that I entertain. You even stared death in the face and you bore it well." At once, Calill held a slender finger beneath her chin as she grew still in mute pondering. Withdrawing her finger, she spoke again, "If it is not the wars, then perhaps it is the rebellion that troubles you."

Lucia sighed once more as her words conjured up many faces as Calill herself might conjure a ball of fire, just as another thunderous boom sounded, though the three of them felt the walls of _The Calill_ shudder in its forceful wake. The storm had at last broken upon the city.

"Was it on account of Boldan?" the innkeeper added in a sober voice, once the inn had settled.

"Must you mention his name in my presence?" Lucia asked. "I have heard nothing in the palace but that name, as hated as the name of Ashnard."

"I thought it might," Calill replied. Her mouth had quickly gone from a solemn line to a rather peculiar smile of triumph, for she thought highly of herself for having guessed. "Your dislike for his name told me enough."

"Lamb blossom," Largo began, without even a trace of his usual lightness of heart, "I don't think there is a man in the whole country who doesn't know that name, even if they don't know the man. What makes you think that Lucia would be any different? I never knew the brute myself, but I had always hoped that all the things I had heard were only stories. I heard it said that he murdered his own father."

"I cannot say whether that is true," the lady said. "Much of his life is a mystery to even me. I can tell you that things you have heard of his nature are indeed true. You called him a brute, good Largo, and I can tell you that name is far too kind. His men were brutes, and the general himself was far worse."

The tapping of heeled shoes met Lucia's ear as Calill rose from her chair to draw nearer to the lady. The magician laid a gentle hand upon her shoulder, and it held the warmth of a mother, for it seemed to the swordswoman that she insisted on conducting herself as though she were indeed her mother.

"I only know of Fort Alpea, but that was enough for me to know the man. I couldn't see his face, at least not as well as if he were on the ramparts with us. Still, he held the look of man pleased by what was about to happen. I hope that my mentioning of that day does not bring you any harm, my lady. Tell me this. What did the Iron do to you? If you are willing to drink yourself to sleep, I can guess that it was something terrible. I'm asking as a friend to you and to the queen. Please tell me. It might do you good to speak of it."

Again, the inn rattled as the unseen battering of the storm rammed against it. Lucia pondered what Calill had said. Again, in the eyes of her thoughts, she saw the hated general of Felirae, and the looks of his men, men who gave glances of a wicked glee and the wantings of depravity. And then, at once, they began to change into the shapes of the familiar, yet the faces remained.

Lucia briskly shook her head, and she cleared her throat. Removing her shoulder from Calill's hand, she stood. "I thank you for your concern and the tending you have given me," she stated with the voice of her station. "I will not forget the kindness of both of you. The hour is late, however, and I think it best that I be on my way. Farewell, my friends."

Lucia stood to retrieve her sword from the corner in which her hostess had laid it. She quickly tied the scabbard to her belt and turned to go. As she passed by the family's table, Calill stood before her again with crossed arms and a firm face. "I am not about to let you leave here," the magician declared. "If you refuse to tell me, then that is your affair. I will not force you, but I will tell you that you will only make matters worse if you drink yourself into a stupor."

"That is a true first," Largo added quickly and lightly. "My wife, who puts food on our table by placing beer on the tables of others, advises someone not to drink. If she continues giving that sort of council, then we may not last much longer."

"Shouldn't you be on your way to bed, Largo?" his wife asked, though hardly with any sincerity. "Has the door been bolted, and our stock put away?"

"Yes, lamb blossom, I've closed up. The door is latched, and now that you mention it, my pillow does sound good. First, I should put the bedroll away and put the fire out."

"If you intend to take your rest," said Lucia. "Then I shall bid you both good-night." Once more, she tried to leave, but Calill would not permit her.

"I knew you were troubled, but I never thought it would dull your ears, with all due respect. I said I would not let you leave here. In the first place, I told Queen Elincia that we would return you to the palace tomorrow, and I will not meet her without you. In the second place, where would you go?"

"I have business in the west," the lady answered. "Would you impede me in the affairs of the queen's house?"

"If I thought you had any business away from Melior, no, I wouldn't."

"Besides, my lady," said Largo. "I wouldn't think you would want to go out in a storm. It's also very cold out there, not as cold as Daein this time of year, but you'd still catch your death. Even if it weren't for the storm clouds, you'd have no moon tonight. Stay the night with us, and things will look better tomorrow. A soft bed and a feather pillow would be better than the wet ground and a cold stone."

Calill waited not for the lady to give her answer. Instead, she took her by the wrist and led her out of the kitchen, into the pub, and up the stairs.

* * *

><p>"You do not need to house me," Lucia objected, even as Calill would not release her hand as they scaled the steps. Were she not a dear friend and also of a slender stature, the lady knew she could, with ease, force her to do so, though Lucia would not for fear to cause her even a slight harm. Instead, she had hoped to persuade her hostess to relent, but the magician would not, and she had said as such even as Lucia continued to protest.<p>

"I will not allow you to go out there and catch your death of cold. Do you not hear the rain? If it were any colder, we would have snow by now, but either way I would not want to let Queen Elincia think you were lying on the ground in the countryside, wet and likely falling ill."

"I am a strong woman," said she. "I have slept on the ground, and I have gone through the rain and even the snow as we awaited the return of our princess. I can surely do the same now."

"You did not seem at all strong to me," Calill replied. "You seem as fragile as the flaking bread that I fancy and have even brought to Her Majesty's table, and I have seen enough to recognize it. Now, I've said more than enough. You are staying here, my lady, until tomorrow. The queen is expecting us and you alongside, and if you will not talk to me, I hope you will talk to her."

By now, they had climbed the last stair, and Lucia had fallen silent as they turned and walked down a single corridor lined with rooms on either side. In the darkness, she found herself hoping some slight erring in the step of her hostess might cause her to release her hand, but Calill needed no lamp to guide her. She knew far too well the rooms and halls of her inn. Even in the midst of the night, the innkeeper struck no wall nor did her steps falter as she brought the lady down the hall, then turned her towards the right. Down a small hall they went, until Calill stopped before the room that she knew to house her and her husband.

"I don't expect you brought any of your nightwear with you," said the innkeeper, "but I imagine you never thought to spend the night. Since I am the only woman here, you will have to make do with one of my dresses."

"That is not necessary, as is housing me."

"Come now, Lady Lucia," Calill replied, as she opened the door and ushered her guest into the room, though Lucia did not wish to be moved. She was, however, moved indeed when her hostess managed to push her rather abruptly through the door frame, much to the surprise of the lady. The magician shut the door lightly behind them after she herself had entered. "Come now," she said again. "I will not have you sleeping in your clothes tonight. I could not do such a thing myself, and I will not have a lady guest of mine doing the same."

The room was already lit and rather plain to the eyes of Lucia. The floor was made of wood with no rugs, the bed, which rested near the door, was hardly regal, and the walls held no grand portraits, although a few adornments made of feathers of kingly blue and green were hung in places. Lucia thought them most frivolous, though she said not a word to her hostess. Along the walls to the right stood three grand wardrobes, each with intricate markings carved in flowing patterns along the polished wood.

Lucia had not stood in the bedchamber for long before Calill again led her by the hand and brought her to one of the wardrobes. "I have slept in my clothing before, and it was often on the ground as well during the Mad King's War," she objected.

"Wait until your eyes get a look at what I have before you refuse. I promise you have never seen anything like these. I may be a common innkeeper, but I certainly dress like a noble or even a royal, even for my sleep." With that, Calill pulled open the cabinet with a grand smile of pride upon her face as she stepped aside for the lady.

Lucia looked inside, and as she ran her hands across the many bed gowns the magician had amassed, she found herself wondering what sort of royal Calill thought herself to be. A wide variety of colors, some a simple white and others the same hot-pink as the dress she wore already and still others of bright shades, met the eyes of the lady. She had thought her feathered ornaments were frivolous indeed, but the swordswoman found each of her gowns most vain. Lucia felt her face grow hot as she examined their scant designs. Some, she noted, would divide at the legs, others were without a back, and each of them sported a deep neckline.

"Well," her hostess said, "do any take your fancy?"

Lucia stifled a meager laugh at the question. "I do not think anything you own would fit me," she answered. "I will sleep in my own clothing tonight, if you insist on housing me for the night. All the same, I would rather be on my way."

"Oh, you are impossible, my lady. For a noblewoman, you certainly don't seem to care for the pursuits of your class. But I suppose I will concede to you on this matter, and I expect you will concede to me. You will not leave my inn. Now," she added, again taking Lucia by the hand, "I will show you to your room."

"How is it that you even have a room for me?" Her voice fell to a soft whisper, as she was led back into the hall. "I have seen the crowd of soldiers here, and most of them, I am sure, do not live in Melior."

"I can still accommodate you. People seem to come here to drink and eat for the most part. Even if I did not have a room, I would not turn away a proper lady. I told one of the men who stayed here that a more honorable guest would need his. What would a few coins be to me when he will return the next time he earns his wages? As it is, I am already rather rich with a small fortune, so it means little to me. And if you must know, the soldier was quite willing to give up his room to you."

They stopped at a door that Lucia knew to be near the stairs, and the lady was ushered inside. Her hostess bade her a good night before shutting her in. The room was also very plain, and unlike Calill's, not a single object of vanity hung upon the walls, except for a few lit lamps and a single window, now spattered with drops of rain. Lucia walked slowly to the bed and sat down. She listened for the sound of heeled shoes and nodded as she heard the light thumping which soon grew faint.

Lucia let a breath filled with grave purpose through her nose. She had no intent of taking any rest here. She would not meet the queen upon the next day, for she could not bear to even bring to her thoughts the name of Elincia. Her only thought was to flee, if she could manage it, but Lucia did find herself glad for the quiet thoughts the moment had brought.

She pondered the account of the night given to her when she had awakened, and she found herself also thinking strangely of Makalov. She wondered if, by chance, his stupidity could cause Geoffrey to relieve him of his commission, for knowing what his knight had done, he would surely consider it. The thought brought a mild amusement to her, but it soon faded into the darkness when she recalled what she had done. As she sat alone in the silent wonderings she had grown accustomed to entertain as of late, she took note of the meager things even as she recalled the weighty matters of the recent days.

Her shoe scrapped against the floor as she idly moved her leg back and forth. The bed creaked and moaned as she moved slightly about. She took great notice of the gentle pattering of the rain and the loud booming of the thunder. When she looked upon the window pane, dotted with the tears of the sky and she heard its loud cries, Lucia lightly touched her dry cheek and sighed in frustration.

"If the sky can shed its tears this night, why can I not? Twice tonight, I have wished to weep, but I can't even shed a single tear. I don't know why I wish to weep. Would it ease me if I did? Would I not be here now if I could?"

She hid her face in her hand, and she felt her shoulders quiver, but again not a single tear fell from her eye.

"Should I return to them now?" she thought aloud. "Should I heed the counsel of Calill and speak to the queen of these things? Oh, don't be a fool, Lucia," she chastised. "She would think me utterly mad if I spoke of this. All the same, would it be better for me? I have stood against the forces of Daein and Felirae, but against my own milk-sister, I find no courage. I would rather flee than speak with her. Even now, I find those moments of my valor as little more than vague memories."

Again, the thunder sounded over the city, and the lady found her distress booming within her heart as well.

"Perhaps," Lucia began, "It is not a matter of valor. Perhaps, it would be best to leave for the sake of my queen. In the crown's eyes, I am still a deserter. Despite the hospitality showed to me, I think I should refuse it. Yes, I could still leave, and Calill would not even know it. I've lingered too long as it is. If I stay, I will surely face the whip, or I shall be locked away, and those punishments are preferable fates for a deserter. I cannot bear the thought of Queen Elincia, under the duress of her nobles, sending me to the gallows again. If I were caught, I would willingly accept my fate, but I cannot allow Elincia to face such a choice. A life in exile, even one I impose upon myself, would surely be better than the obligation of the law."

And so, the lady waited, though she first dimmed the lamps before she returned to sit on the bed.

Lucia hoped to still her thoughts, so that she might not dwell for too long on the unfavorable notions that often came to her in the dark. She did not wish to think of Elincia, Geoffrey, nor even of Calill, except to suppose when she might shut herself in for the night. She did not wish to bring to mind the faces of Ludveck or his rebellion, and she most undoubtedly wished not to recall Boldan, though he seemed to come with ease to her as did the words of the dead Okale. She could not help but ponder what he may have meant, but as she did, she swiftly pushed such things aside.

She again thought of her intentions to flee the city and seek shelter with those who would take her word without question. Even as the storm lingered still upon Melior, she would do this, though she could not deny that the idea of sleep was most enticing to her. Shaking her head against the growing weariness, Lucia fought to remain awake, for she knew she would not find sleep this night.

The rains continued to fall, and the thunder roared, ceased, and roared again. Lucia strained to hear what sound might come from the other side of the door. Her sight grew unclear, even the dark and she found herself lightly striking herself, if only to stay awake.

"Come quickly," she whispered. "I do not know how long I can hold."

She found her thoughts drifting again to the night before Alpea, when her fate was made known. The time had seemed to pass far too slowly for her then, and once more the hours seemed to grow in their length. Had she waited one mark or even two? Lucia could not tell. As the lightning flared outside for the smallest of moments, it seemed to her that it had lingered for a day. And so she continued her anxious vigil, hoping that the time would soon come.

It was when Lucia thought she could no longer bear the darkness and the endless waiting for even a moment that she heard a sound outside the room. A light tap came from the other side of the door. Another soon followed, and still another. They were the sounds of footfalls, and rather light ones, Lucia guessed. It was surely Calill. A heavy thump sounded shortly after. A second such step came, then a third. It was Largo following the call of his wife. Lucia dared not move, though she was glad to hear them. She feared they might hear her lingering awake, and then Calill would no doubt speak to her again.

When, at last, she could no longer hear them, Lucia waited for only a few moments until she was certain they had passed.

Breathing a deep breath and rising slowly, Lucia neared the door. She took slow steps so as her boots would not betray her to even the care of her hosts. Holding out her hand, she did not even sigh in relief at the finding of the door. Gently, she opened the door and stepped out.

Lucia cringed as she walked the halls. Thought she knew the way, she did not run, and as she crept through the dark, she heard the floors groan as if they were sentries calling out her escape. She had thought to take her boots off, and she might have done so if not for the need to put them on again. Pausing often, she continued back the way she had once been led, until her foot found only a space beneath it. A wide and wicked smile spread across Lucia's face when she realized she had found the stairs without having roused the house.

Slowly, she stepped down upon the stair, and then she took another step. Now, she quickened her pace. She numbered the steps in silence as she continued one. One step she took, then a second, a third and then a fourth. She knew she had gone halfway. Five steps, she counted and then six. With gladness at her deed, she hurried, but as she passed the last two steps, her feet tangled.

With only the time for a quick breath of surprise, Lucia fell.

The lady winced as she felt herself strike the floor. The old stings in her arms having once endured such a blow from the stone floor of the palace returned, only now she felt pains of a similar nature upon her entire body. She looked up to see the two front windows of the inn not but a few paces away, and between them, she knew was the door. Yet, as she lied where she had fallen, Lucia wondered if Calill would soon discover her, for her ears were surely those of a mother and aware of any nightly noise.

The pain only seemed to grow, though Lucia knew she did not bleed. Likewise, the vexing thought at having come so near to her departure likewise doubled, and Lucia found she could not shed a tear at either. However, a foul word left her lips, for she had heard many in her times among the fighting men. Lucia could scarcely believe her own ears, and her eyes grew large in sobering realization.

"What has done this to me?" she wondered aloud. "Have the sleepless nights truly changed me? I have fled from my queen, and now I have thrown away even the common decencies that my mother worked to have to me adopt. The sooner I find a way to sort this out, the better."

She began to rise, wincing from the persisting stings upon her body, but as she did, Lucia felt a strange yet all too familiar sensation beyond the pain of her fall. The room seemed darker, the rains seemed stilled, and the shapes and shadows seemed strange, as though they had twisted into shapes her eyes could not discern. Lucia held her breath, for it seemed too cold to breathe. It had seemed this way to her when she had fallen in the palace halls those nights ago.

Lucia hoped to leave quickly before what shapes that had so long followed her could appear once more. She took a step and then another. In her ears, she could hear the hateful cracklings of an unpleasant fire, though none burned, the malicious laughter of men, though she was very much alone, and the rapid thumping of her own heart. She fought to silence them, but she again found that they only grew louder. Her pace quickened with care so that she would not strike her foot against a chair. The door seemed nearer to her now and yet also very far, but Lucia would not halt.

When she had, at last, reached the door, Lucia counted herself glad at what she had done. She did not turn her eyes back from where she had come, for she wondered if to see the kindness of the inn would cause her to ponder the plans she had made. She reached for the latch with the sounds of the rain meeting the sounds of ghosts still echoing in her ears.

Just then, a quick and firm knock rapped three times upon the door. Lucia stood still as she heard it, save for a tremble. Again, the visitor struck the door, and again a fearful shiver shook her. The ill laughter faded away, but the rapping on the wood came again.

"Who could that be at such an hour?" Lucia whispered in perturbed wonderment. "I have heard of some who travel through the night for a room, but on a night as this one, I cannot imagine who would find himself on the road."

She wondered if she should send for Calill or Largo, but Lucia did not think for long on it. She knew they would ask more of her. She wondered if she should simply open the door, and bid the guest to enter, but she knew not who should have come to the inn at an hour when Melior was at rest. At once she thought it might be only one of the city watchers, who might have hoped for a strong drink to ease the dreariness of their positions and stave off the cold and rain. If it were but a watchman, Lucia knew she might again be asked why she should be at the inn, but she could easily slip away as well.

And so, thinking to be the better thing, Lucia lifted the latch and opened the door. When she had done so, the woman gasped in shock at who stood before her in the shadows.

It was a man, indeed, but it was not a guard of the city. It was a large man, and she, at first, believed him to be Ludveck, for he was of his form, though only slighter than the former-duke. In his right hand, he held a long rod, and its tip, forged into a rounded shape, glowed hot. At his waist, Lucia could glimpse the shape of a crooked scabbard for a twisted blade. And when he lifted the heated rod to his face, the lady stepped back as she saw a few locks of equally tinted hair.

"Lady Lucia, I am glad to have found you," he said, with a voice heavy of hate. The man took a single step forward.

It was General Boldan himself.

Lucia quickly slammed the door and, though she doubted it would bar him, she laid her back upon it, pressing her weight as well as she could. "He is not truly there," she managed to say in an attempt to still the great fear within her, though the persistent knocking and his efforts at entering did little, except to show her own hopes were in vain. She did find herself wondering, however, why he had not overpowered her. While she was strong, Lucia knew the arm of Boldan to be stronger, and yet he had not managed to open the door.

"He is here," Lucia said. When the general knocked again, she knew not why, but the lady felt an anger she could not describe growing within her as the thunder came once more. "The knocking is real enough, so it must truly be him. Before, he was but a shadow in the distance or a face that was not there. Now, he comes to me as flesh and blood. But if he thinks he shall finish it tonight, then I will teach him otherwise. At Alpea, I was his prisoner, but tonight, I shall escape him. The faster arm wounded him once, and the faster legs will flee from him."

With a single breath, Lucia opened the door and swiftly ran into the night. To her horror and surprise, Boldan merely reached out with his left hand and seized her by the forearm.

"Lucia, why do you run from me?" Boldan asked as he held her back. "Look, it is only I." Pulling upon her arm, he brought her face towards him. When he lifted the glowing iron, Lucia gasped again when she beheld a long tress the color of polished emerald.

"Just as it has always been," the lady uttered with great fear. "It is his face, and then it is not his face at all."

"Please, my lady, come inside," the figure beckoned. "I must speak with you, quickly." Lucia knew not what to make of this strange man. If he were not truly before her, how was it that she had been seized? When he compelled her arm once more, the same anger she had felt earlier suddenly grew into a heated rage.

"No!" Lucia cried as she quickly withdrew her forearm. She did not know what devilry had fallen upon her, if it was the strange things she had seen in restless sleep or some final spell that Count Okale had managed before his death or even if it was, by chance, truly General Boldan. She knew not, and she cared not. At once, she drew her sword and struck at the figure. It drew back. She swung again, and again it drew back.

She gave chase back through the door of _The Calill_, following the telling glow of the burning iron. Her visitor dodged her every move, and though she knew he bore a sword, he did not reach for the weapon. Instead, he overturned the chairs if he happened to brush against one. They fell with a loud thump before the lady, but she did not falter.

"If it is you, then draw your sword and fight back!" the lady declared. "If it is not you, then leave me be!"

"My lady, please," the figure pleaded. "Sheath your sword. I am no enemy!" Again, Lucia came, and again, the general withdrew moments before the blow could strike him.

"I will have no more of this," she replied with the same ire that drove each swing of her blade. "If you are not here, then leave me!"

"I am no enemy. Do you not know me?"

"No more!" Lucia shouted, as she circled around the fallen chairs and attacked. Her strokes came wildly, and once, with the flat of her sword, she managed to strike the man upon the brow. Boldan cried in pain, and the iron in his hand clattered to the floor. Teetering about, he withdrew again, but as he stepped back, he was caught by one of the very chairs he had used and fell. Lucia breathed heavily the air of the battle. She could not see his face in the darkness, but in the small light of the heated rod, she saw his hands cowering above him.

"It is I, Lady Lucia," he said with frightened urgency. "It is I!"

"Do you now know fear, Boldan?" she asked. He did not answer. Lucia took a step towards him. "You who have spread fear to all of Crimea and also to me, at last know the very thing. When the people and your queen finish with you, you shall know more." She raised her sword, making sure to turn the flat towards him, for she would kill him not.

At once a light came from the top of the stairs, and a voice called out, halting the blow. Thought it seemed far away, it was the voice of woman that came to Lucia's ears.

"What's going on down there?" it asked, before the quick patterning of footsteps was heard. "Lady Lucia," the voice said. "Put down your sword."

With the light now upon her, Lucia could see the fallen man trembling at her feet, though his hands still shielded his face.

"It is I," he said again, and he lowered his veil. As their eyes met, the lady felt her blade grow quite heavy, and she found herself quivering as well. Before her, laid her pupil, Duke Percival.

The thunder shook the inn once more.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Lucia can't seem to catch a break can she? I hope she doesn't seem too OOC, but I always thought they just swept it aside too fast in the game.


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